Remembering Him & Loving Her
by slowread
Summary: In the quiet moments of fame, Rachel remembers the boy she left behind, and struggles over the girl who never gave her the chance to... Finchel / Faberrry RE-UPLOAD
1. Chapter 1 - Introduction

**Remembering Him & Loving Her**

So I got a lot of people asking about the possibility of reading this after it got removed from the site. So, here it is.

First off: to the kind soul who reported this story previously for abuse (aka. not using the chapter feature):

I understand the confusion as this story _is_ rather long but I never intended nor wanted it to be viewed as a multi-chaptered fic. The headings were simply to help understand the timeline. So, if you happen to come across a fic of mine in the future, I would be grateful if you could PM me first and we could work through it? I'd really rather not have my account suspended sometime in the future. For the purposes of this story though I have broken it into chapters like you wanted.

Cheers mate.

Ok, this was the product of my sleep-addled brain as I procrastinated about my assignment that was due at midnight. Un-beta'ed so please forgive the mistakes. I wanted to try something different here. It's a flashback story that sort of fills in some of the blanks of season 3 and adopts some things from season 4, but otherwise canon.

Feel free to let me know how it goes, and whether I'm a one hit wonder. BIG THANKS to the people who read it last time it was up.

Disclaimer: don't own anything and yada, yada yada.

**Summary**

In the quiet moments of fame, Rachel remembers the boy she left behind, and struggles over the girl _who never gave her the chance to... _

**Introduction**

During the fall of 2012, there were three people whose futures diverged, became at a crossroads or whatever other spin you wanted to put on it. Interestingly enough, it wasn't because of any great friction or loss of emotion, but the very real realisation that they wanted different things in life and had certain opportunities waiting for them. And, as they glanced at each other for one last time when Rachel tearfully boarded that train to New York City, it was beautiful, poignant and strangely wonderful; the silent acknowledgement that perhaps it was just never the right _setting_, the right _person_ or the right _time. _

_So…_

_He _went to Fort Benning, Georgia: to be a soldier, to be a legacy and to find that sense of achievement that barely passing grades never afforded him in high school.

_She_ went to New Haven, _Yale university actually_: hoping to learn, love and become a less tragic figure than that painted by her adolescent circumstances. It would be the final goodbye to an old cheerios uniform, lingering stretch marks and a wheelchair left in relatively good condition.

And Rachel? The brunette went to NYADA with childhood dreams of Broadway, fame and fluency in social settings that excluded concepts of _slushies, Rupaul and little miss diva. _

They told themselves that their pasts couldn't tie them together forever... except perhaps, in the many unforeseen ways that it _did_.

/

**Current Day**

Rachel sighed in the empty space of her penthouse apartment; tired from a hectic half a decade of performances, accolades and interacting with the world through social media. With Facebook, twitter and late night talk shows, she found herself missing the simplicity of her video-filled MySpace profile. She thinks that if she had known better back then, she would have relied on YouTube instead.

Since arriving in New York, her career had hit the ground running. Though nobody expected any less when you were handpicked by Carmen Tibideaux, berated by Cassandra July and backed by the entire NYADA cohort.

The journey to becoming a household name seemed fluid and easy in a way that suggested that there might be something to concepts of _fate and meant to be. _Rachel adjusted her old knitted sweater as she looked out of large glass panels. Almost right in front of her, was a poster stretched to the side of a hotel building in Times Square. It advertised her latest production, 'Textbook Love.' Critics had hailed it as a marvelous reminder that even in pessimistic and technology driven times, romance in its oldest and most scripted cliché forms, _still held some magic_. Her face dominated the promotional picture; layered in so much eyeliner and pretend naiveté that she almost didn't recognise herself.

Rachel closed her eyes, leaning her forehead against the coolness of the window. A sharp sense of loneliness invaded her countenance. It was times like these, that she felt incredibly small and unequipped to deal with the rush of her emotions: excitement, nerves and a distinct sense of loss. Her hands would shake and her mind would race back to simpler times, _back to Lima, Ohio._

She wants to say that she has the happy ending that she's always wanted. She wants to think that music and Broadway could sustain her in _all_ aspects of her life, that maybe, the _achievement of it all_ could make her forget her sacrifices. And _it did, most of the time anyway_. For, Rachel could sing on any stage or sign the play books of a thousand of young children, believing that nothing could touch her and she couldn't want for anything more. This is exactly what she _dreamed _of_ as a child _when she still trusted in the world's potential and fairytales. So, it had to be _significant_. The fame, the commendations and the passion-filled career _had_ to be _enough_ to make happy, because it was the path she _chose_ and she didn't believe in regrets.

However in the end, those thoughts are only a temporary solution: a brief reprieve and a wonderful illusion at best. One: that grew less convincing over the years as the frenzied schedules started to slow.

Flipping through her vast collection of unopened mail, she comes across a post-card; muddied and covered in a messy enthusiastic scrawl.

_Rach! How are you going? I heard about that Tony award last month. Congratulations! I knew that it'd be you. What is it, the third one by now? My squad and I had a betting pool, and I have you to thank for 100 extra dollars. That can go into me buying you dinner during my down time in next month. I'll visit Mom and Burt in Ohio before coming to New York for the rest of it. Maybe I can even watch one of your shows and meet Kurt's new boyfriend afterwards. Can't wait. So, I guess I'll see you soon._

Rachel feels a familiar warmth in her stomach and she lets herself be carried away by the kind words. A nostalgic smile appears on her face as she recalls the owner of handwriting. _Finn Hudson. Though, it's Sergeant Finn Hudson of the United States Army now._ The title itself, reminded Rachel of the time spent apart and the changes that had ensued. In the military, the football player had to come into his own, finally growing into his broad shoulders and impressive height. Despite Rachel's own insecurities at the time, she never did understand why in high school, Finn kept to his hunched posture, so hesitant to stand up for his morals. It was almost as if he was afraid to stand tall, uncertain about his position as a trusted leader despite everyone else's confidence and support. _Still_, that was in the past now. Rachel reverently placed the postcard in a carved wooden box, stacked on top of all the others. The various stamped locations of each piece of mail said: Camp Ravenna Joint Military Training Center, Fort Benning, Chile and _Afghanistan. _

Her fingers carefully traced the hinges of the antique container. And it's not that she's lost contact with the rest of the glee club or forgotten about the past that got her here, but Finn is decidedly _different_. He was her first love. He's the teenage yardstick to measure all future suitors against. But most importantly, he was the _boy she could have, would have, married. _The fact that the reason _why_ they didn't go through with it, was because Finn didn't want be the obstacle that might push Broadway out of reach, _meant_ _everything_.

However, the interesting thing about distance was that it often returned your perspective. It gave you back the logical thinking that had been shoved to the background in exchange for skipping heartbeats, racing pulses and that _enchanted sense of breathlessness_. And, it's through their light-hearted get-togethers _in the present time_ that Rachel has learned to accept their final downfall and separation. She'd walk hastily into the café, a little on edge from the paparazzi and reporters. The waiter would lead her to her usual table. But before reaching it, she would look up and her shoulders would relax. The tension would fade and she'd remove her oversized shades because Finn didn't deserve to only see the reflection of his own bright eyes.

_No_, standing to attention and dressed proudly in his worn-out fatigues; he deserved to see _her. _

People seated nearby might wonder who it was that had _audacity_ to act so familiar with _Miss Rachel Berry_. However, none of it would make it to the brunette's mind as she takes in Finn's still boyish grin and affectionate expression. She'd let out a small sound of excitement before running into his arms, intent on being caught and spun gleefully around. With laughter and whispered '_I missed you's,' _the two would sit and order their first drinks. Coffee and scones cover the small talk and brief recaps of their ongoing lives. Rachel speaks of Santana's constant but welcome barrages into her home as the Latina rages over the supposed _assholes_ in her workplace and the beautiful women _yet to be conquered. _Finn paints a hilarious description of his commanding officer that _might just be_ the male reincarnation of Sue Sylvester. His faked terror amuses like nothing else. _Dinner_ is associated with more philosophical musings, emotional confessions and bouts of seriousness. For those brief moments, they acknowledge that they're still important to each other's lives, _more than_ just an occasional friend or old high school crush. Anecdotes and outrageous mistakes go along nicely with the desserts. Till finally, beer and wine, supply the energy and bravery for last comments and promises of next time. Throughout the day, they never move from their table, watching the sunset and the stars as they crawl onto the canvas of the night sky. Finn's hand might drop to overlap and hold onto Rachel's. There'll be a faint blush under the singer's burning cheeks, a conditioned reaction from their youth. It's a sweet moment of friendship as their eyes meet in a long gaze. The idea that the contact only elicits platonic feelings now, surprises the both of them _every time_.

At the end of the evening, almost _always_, Rachel would begin to gather her things. Finn would rise out of seat like the gentleman he grew up to be and she would lean over the table to kiss him sweetly on the cheek. Her hand would trace his jaw fondly and regretfully, and she's always the first to leave. _Sometimes, _she'd turn her head to look back before she steps out through the door... He'd be still standing there with his hands clasped behind his back. And, he'd nod his head and smile supportively, watching her go into the night. It doesn't hurt him as much to watch her go anymore.

In the aftermath, as Rachel has time to just twiddle her thumbs and finish 5000-piece puzzles, she'd review the experience of seeing Finn Hudson again. And, as her memories come back and fight for her consideration, she'd be caught off-guard by an errant thought. _Quinn Fabray._

It sounds strange doesn't it? That in a moment of wistful thinking about old romances, her high school antagonist and _kind of _friend would slip _so easily_ into the forefront. It unnerved Rachel, that throughout the years, it was snapshots and recollections of the hardened blonde that caused the most damage. Despite exchanged Metro North train passes, post-high school had been a different story for the two girls. Perhaps they hadn't realized how intertwined their lives _really were_ or how much they really _cared_ because the tragedy wasn't in that they didn't _try_ to stay in touch.

Initially, trips had been made at every chance and _even_ when it was inconvenient. They'd hollow out time from their day-to-day happenings to take the other around their campuses, personal haunts and hideaways. They'd introduce each other to their classmates.

_Hello, this is my friend Quinn. She goes Yale University. She's a writer and her stories are amazing. _

_Guys, meet Rachel Berry. You should probably just get her signature now. Believe me, she's headed for Broadway. _

The visits were fun, uncomplicated and a continuation of their friendship from senior year. It was hard to pinpoint exactly when things started to go wrong. Maybe it was when their schooling got harder. Or possibly, it was as their social cards became more crowded. However, there was perhaps _one moment_ that had been seared into mind, a painful scar that wouldn't quite heal. Rachel remembered it in a hazy blur, often wishing that she hadn't partied so hard that evening. She'd gone out with a bunch of friends on the night of her birthday, something that seemed so _harmless_ at the time. But, it was obvious now that she should have understood Kurt's conflicted expression and Santana's worried surprise, because _every year since graduation_, that day had been celebrated_ a specific way. _Where, Quinn would take the train to New York City with a box of the trio's favorite cupcakes from a New Haven bakery and they would all just sit on the floor with _a takeout picnic of sorts_. They'd chuckle and clap euphorically, playing twister and even reluctantly joining Rachel in singing the night away.

Rachel often tried to trace the events that led to her say yes to the handsome boy from her dance class instead of her usual routine with her McKinley friends. He, _Brody_, had been _so kind_ in a group of competitive performers, patiently teaching her the ropes and charming with his dimpled smile. She thought that his talents for singing and dancing were oh-so-attractive, and that with the devotion shining in his eyes, maybe, they could be _something great_. He was the first guy to incite such an emotion since Finn, and so, Rachel didn't think it through. _But, she remembers how the night ended... _

After an evening of flirtation and drinks at the urging of their classmates and following a tough lesson from Cassandra July; Brody took her home. Respectful, attentive and gentle, he'd half-carry an intoxicated Rachel to her home. The singer recalls fumbling and dropping the keys, making a loud racket. She had been momentarily glad for their lack of neighbors. Despite her giggling, Rachel had somehow managed to undo the lock and unlatch the sliding metal door. She had fallen again into his arms, off-balance by the effort. It was in that second that Rachel felt a sharp sense of sobriety attack her consciousness. Though she was impaired at the time, Rachel was _still_ sure that she had felt her _heart break_. _Because_, Kurt rushed out of his bedroom with an admonishing expression, ready to give a lecture about the appropriate hours of the night. _Because_, Santana had moved from her position on the couch to stand protectively behind Quinn, placing a supportive hand on her friend's shoulder. And _because_, _for a moment,_ a look of detachment and despondency that Rachel hadn't seen _in years_, re-entered Quinn's expression. And, in the blink of an eye, it was later replaced with a practiced smile that _could never properly emulate happiness_.

After the end of the long pause, the blonde had been the perfect friend. She politely thanked Brody for bringing Rachel home. Relieving the boy of his duties, Quinn had gracefully and tenderly placed Rachel's arm around her neck to lead the way to the singer's bed. Her impassive features only struggling _briefly_ in response to Rachel's drunken apologies.

That night, Quinn had been vigilant. The blonde had offered a metal bucket whenever Rachel rolled to her side ready to wretch. Quinn tucked Rachel back in underneath the covers, as she sat pensively on the single sofa in the living room. At one point during her restless sleep, Rachel recalled opening her eyes and seeing Quinn stare sadly out of her bedroom window. The glow from night-lights only made the blonde more ethereal as she appeared to finally _close the book_ on something. Strength disappeared for a moment and she looked so lost and alarmingly young. But, Rachel was in no shape to help.

The next morning was the calm before the storm. Except it wasn't so much a storm as the gradual loss of meaning and interaction. Rachel had awoken to Quinn making bacon and eggs for Santana and Kurt, and a vegan mushroom omelet for her. As Quinn slid the plate in front of the singer, the blonde had smiled honestly even if it was the last time that she would. From then on, it felt like the dissolution of their _one successful attempt_ at friendship, a divorce of sorts. Rachel was to have New York, Santana and Kurt. Quinn felt comfortable with New Haven, Brittany and Mike. It was interesting, how in the time that it took for the girls to grow apart, different people began to lean on each other and new support systems were formed. As it turned out, the students of Yale, MIT and Stanford so regularly co-mingled.

In the end, very few members of New Directions understood the rift. For all intents and purposes, the girls still spoke and sent gifts on all the important dates. But maybe Santana missed the subtext and the secret concern hidden in the words that Quinn would say. Maybe Kurt missed the decisive manner that one of the blonde's looks or dry remarks could so easily make Rachel see reason. But, Brittany _knew_ that a clean break was the start to healing. She figured that as much as Quinn knew, that deep down, she might just be _in love_ with Rachel Berry; the ex-head cheerio was still too unable to voice the notion out loud. And Mike conceded that sometimes it was hard to let go of a relationship _not_ because it was doomed, but due to the fact that you _knew_ that it _could_ work_, if only you were willing to place more than just your heart on the line._

For Rachel, dating people afterwards had been a strange set of misadventures. The first obstacle would be Finn; of whether the new person could match up the footballer's wonderfully high standards of thoughtfulness, loyalty and dependability. For the rare ones that do, the second wall was the one that proved to be insurmountable. With Rachel's razor sharp memory, the brunette could so easily recall the _one friend_ she had lost during the one time that she had so carelessly said yes. It was difficult for anyone to stand a chance against torturous thoughts of what _could have been…_

_..._If only Rachel had just been a little less single-minded...and if only, over the years, she had read a little more between the lines...

_Maybe,_ she would have been able to treasure and grasp the things that Quinn implied but never said.

During the quiet times, _it was a long never-ending list…_


	2. Chapter 2 - First Day Back

_**- Senior Year - First Day Back**_

"Finn, do you know where Quinn is? I have to speak to her."

Rachel asked loudly as she rounded the corner onto the football field. Coach Beiste appeared annoyed for the interruption; before she was the recipient of her quarterback's pleading eyes as he glanced in between her and his girlfriend. After a drawn-out second, she eventually rolled her eyes and muttered that i_t was perhaps time for a water break anyway_.

Finn nodded gratefully, before turning to face a determined Rachel.

"I'm not sure. Why are you looking for her Rach? I don't think she wants to talk or anything to do with the glee club these days."

The statement is said with resignation. Rachel's shoulders drop as they both recall the summer.

They had hoped that with the new haircut…

They had hoped that with that Nationals trip to New York City…

They had hoped that with Quinn's acceptance of their relationship that the blonde could _let go_ of her anger, self-loathing and loss of social position.

Rachel had thought that senior year could finally be the beginning of a friendship that she had always looked forward to. That, for some reason, Rachel has always been a little envious of Santana and Brittany _for_. The singer so often wondered if it was some lingering case of Stockholm syndrome or just a desire to draw out the blonde's compassionate side that would sometimes slip out into the background. It was the secret things, like how, even in her prime period as HBIC; Quinn had never once bullied Artie or Kurt…

Artie was in a wheelchair, and Quinn had to have known that Kurt was gay. _She was always so good at dissecting people. _

So, Rachel wholeheartedly believes that there's someone worth saving. She holds onto the idea that there might be a hero underneath pink-dyed hair and a disinterested attachment to a half-smoked cigarette.

"She's just a little lost, Finn. She just needs someone to stop and give her a hand, to remind her that she's _a lot better than she knows."_

Conflicted, Finn looked away. It's not that he didn't care about Quinn Fabray. _That_, as he thought that Rachel has recently found out, was a hard feat once you really got to know the blonde. He remembered how he felt when he got a glimpse of that _first_ insecurity or vague sense of caring. It was like a jumpstart to his heart. Somehow, Finn had discovered what Puck seemed to experience all along, a strong and irrepressible need to _protect and shelter _the blonde.

Quinn was such an impossible character to him. Finn could never reconcile the sarcastic bully with the girl who, despite never meeting him before, talked him through his freshman year academic breakdown. She hadn't known that he was the quarterback back then. She hadn't known that he was _popular._ Instead, she was simply a concerned stranger as she walked down McKinley's hallway with her high school application forms and flyer for cheerleading.

Rachel noticed the slight change in his defenses and pushed on. She asked him the questions that had always been on her mind.

"Do you remember how happy she was singing? Don't you ever wonder why Quinn didn't quit the first moment she could?"

The barrage of questions that was _so spirited and desperate for understanding_, felt so much like an attack. Finn couldn't see any escape or right answer. He knew why he was so against approaching Quinn in the present, and it _was _in many ways utterly selfish and mildly cowardly. So, he responds in the only way that his flustered emotions could allow, _with unfiltered thoughts and weak convictions_.

"Because she didn't have anyone else after cheerios dumped her. Because she wanted to keep tabs on us..."

At those statements, Rachel paused. She finally sees the effect that she was having on her boyfriend and relents, _only slightly_. Her eyes became mournful, but soft as she whispers curiously.

"Do you really believe that?"

A sigh escapes. Finn took a deep breath. He looked in any direction but Rachel.

"_No."_

Rachel nods and moves a step closer. She takes his shaking fists in her hands and looks up at him with an innocence that Finn has always thought separated her from the other the girls.

"Then why don't you stand up and _help her_. You're a leader, Finn. People _will_ follow you."

The concept of being anyone's authority on anything is terrifying, because, what if you do wrong by the group? Despite the football and glee captaincies he couldn't fathom, _why him? _

Why him and not Puck? Why Quinn, and not Santana?

For the boys, it couldn't just be the broader shoulders or taller stature. And for the girls, it had to be something more than prettier features and a larger bra size. There had to be something _intrinsic_ and trustworthy. Finn kept turning it over in his mind, trying to find that greater trait, that rare thing that _made_ princes, princess and slayed the many dragons. So he tries to hear what Rachel keeps saying. He hopes that her words can make it through the panicked haze.

"Finn, she was your first love and girlfriend. And more importantly she was a close friend to you before that. That _has_ to mean something to you."

It's amazing, the boy thinks as he looks at Rachel. The singer actually has near tears in her eyes, and it's enough to move the most stubborn of souls. For the longest time, Finn would always wonder why his girlfriend cared so much. He'd never quite get a proper answer but sometime in the distant future, when Quinn puts _everything_ on the line to rush to _their wedding;_ he thinks that he finally _gets it. _He only _just_ catches the last of Rachel's questions.

"You care. I _know_ you do. So why are you trying to convince me to do the opposite?"

It feels like the end of the discussion, the pivotal point as Rachel offered a last chance to justify his views and redeem his character. Finn realised that perhaps it was time to be honest.

"Rachel, I just want to keep you safe. _I love you_. I've never cared about anyone as much as you."

They stop as the emotion in the confession surprises them both. And it's not as if they haven't voiced it before, but there's something powerful about it, when it slips out unintentionally and accompanied by reddened cheeks. For a second, Rachel seems as if she about to answer but Finn interrupts, needing to get his thoughts out into the open.

"And Quinn? I _do _want to do something for her, and I _know_ that you want to help her through this, but she's _unpredictable_."

Finn stops. He takes time to let the notion sink in. The hard truth of it was that history was against the blonde. Because, Quinn had the intelligence to make the plans _and_ the harshness needed to see it through, she's difficult to trust. She's a flight risk _even _when she _wants_ to change for the better, and right here, right now? Changing _back to the glee club was the last thing on her mind. _There's pain in her eyes that communicates destruction _if you come too near_, and the footballer just wants so desperately to spare his girlfriend from that. Finn stares imploringly at Rachel.

With Quinn, one warning was all you were going to get. So, he lets the next statement drop quietly from his lips.

"She's _good_ at finding what _hurts_."

Rachel shuffled uncomfortably. She's not naive or deranged enough to think Finn a liar. After all, she's had firsthand experience. Her mind races, generating so many scenarios, _in all of which, she does get hurt. _In fact, she gets _ripped apart_, because on some level Quinn Fabray has always understood Rachel Berry. She knew about the singer's dreams, insecurities and fragile ego.

Perhaps Finn mistakes Rachel's pensiveness for worry. He's _wrong_ but nevertheless as his large hands grasp hers and he speaks emotionally. Concern danced across his features and Rachel is captivated. She figures that _she is always going to be attached to this boy._

"Rach, if you talk to her, and she doesn't want you around, she's going be so mean to you. Quinn is going say the right things to hurt you."

_And there it was. _The phrase '_the right things'_ lingers in the space in between. Sometimes, Rachel wonders why in the past, the blonde had shown her so much mercy. The singer would never voice the question aloud, already able to anticipate the wave incredulous responses from friends and family. After all, with the slushies, mean MySpace comments and the occasional bout of face-slapping violence: in what world was that _taking it easy_? In what world, was that the _kinder thing_ to do?

The answer is actually quite simple: _high school. _It's a period of everyone's life when personal characteristics and ethics were constantly in flux as people tried to submit and meld themselves into puzzle pieces that fit. _Keep your head down. Wait for college. Things will get better. _With so many different mantras repeated, the transition from a carefree childhood to aconvoluted versionof the adult world is more than a little jarring. There were those that would stumble, fall and lose themselves in the bustle. Some will even cry because of the complete _lack of truth_ in everyone's eyes as even trusted friends hide behind insecurities. The lucky ones are those who figure it all out early. They're maybe forgotten, ignored or overlooked for someone else more _sparkling_ and _confident_. However with time, they'll come to realise that the experience was necessary; teaching them as much about who they _didn't want to be_ as well as, who _they could be,_ with hard work and indomitable spirits.

So, Rachel thinks realistically. She marveled that with soft blond hair, striking features and an unnoticed place on the honor roll, _Quinn could have been worse_. She could have had a tendency towards _savagery_ instead of just snarky and taunting remarks. She could have actually _used_ the deep dark secrets that her methodical gaze would observe. For example, like the reason _why_ Jacob Ben Israel or _Jewfro _was so _overzealous_ in his need to invade everyone's privacy. _It's for his little brother by the way_. In the loneliness of a single parent household, the frizzy haired boy wanted to be role model_. _Jacob wanted_ any sort of popular_, even if it was the distasteful kind, because then, he could protect his family. And all right, maybe it was also his fluctuating hormones and obsessive infatuations.

However most of all, Quinn could have easily commanded a school full of lost teenagers, blurring the lines of morality more _towards the wrong._ Rachel thinks that to some extent, the blonde might have known that because after all, she had only ever attacked the superficial: _manhands, stubbles and treasure trail. _Maybe, just maybe Quinn never wanted to cause _that kind of damage_, you know, the type that would stop yearbook writers from their first piece of hard-hitting journalism, or science club members from developing a disease cure. _It's a nice thought…_

Rachel breathes deeply, trying to shake off her sudden burst of nerves. Her voice is light but sincere as she manages to say.

"_That's really no reason not to try, Finn."_

The statement leads to a stalemate. Finn stands with his mouth slightly open, hoping for the magic words that would stop Rachel from walking away in the direction of the known hangout of _the skanks_. However, it becomes harder with each passing second until he finally sees that there's nothing he could say that would measure up against Rachel insistent desire to _talk to Quinn_. Instead, the footballer stands on the sidelines, vaguely registering Coach Beiste's efforts to gather the team back on field. Finn's swallowed worriedly as he watched Rachel depart. He keeps to his spot, hoping that she'd turn around and run back into his arms. _Wheeeeep! _Ouch, now there was the whistle in conjunction with the yelling. Finn figures that he won't have long until Puck is sent to drag him back to the training drills. But in the last moments before Rachel turns out of sight, she pauses and turns her head back. She looks warmly into Finn's eyes and murmurs.

"She doesn't advertise it but I _know_ that she's put herself on the line for us in the past… I can't figure out any other way that we could have gotten that full page spread for the glee club from the cheerios..."

Resigned, he doesn't bother to ask who '_she' _is. And with that, Rachel is gone leaving Finn to stare at the emptiness that she left behind.

/

_**A few days later...**_

Quinn leaned against the doorjamb of the choir room. She doesn't know why she's here. She has even less of an idea of why she felt the need wake up so early and get to school before the sun even had the chance to appear from behind the tall buildings. It went against everything her brief time with the skanks had taught her. The blonde found herself sighing. As hard as the other girls tried, they could never manage to teach _Quinn their particular brand of uncaring. _

The Mac couldn't understand why the blonde wouldn't give her the go ahead to mess up Rachel Berry's face a little more. Sheila couldn't convince Quinn that The Bangles was superior to _The Go-Go's_. And Ronnie felt so disconnected to their newest member when Quinn _didn't mind_ that her friend _stinked of soap_. Together, the three girls were willing to foster the blonde, having a strange admiration for the supposedly perfect aristocratic ex-cheerleader _capable_ of getting up every time she was beat down. They thought that Quinn's ability to re-invent herself could help them all one day, because, even _they_ didn't want to be stuck in this town forever. But what they couldn't quite gel with was how the blonde's gaze almost _softened_ when Rachel Berry came around. They felt concerned about the flickering of hazel eyes and the barely controlled clenching of the jaw that fought to maybe call the shorter girl back. Finally, they figured that the most important point was the fact that Rachel knew Quinn well enough to plead with a _choice_, rather than an ultimatum or condescending attempt at convincing.

_Cos you can't stop the beat…_

Pinching the bridge of her nose, Quinn shut her eyes tightly. She thinks that in the darkness of her mind she can remain unrelenting. She needed to believe that she still had _nothing to lose _because maybe then, real life wouldn't sting so much. It shouldn't have been all that hard with the long list of people waiting to tell her how far she had fallen. The esteem and merits of her old persona before glee club seemed almost untouchable now. Quinn Fabray: cheerios captain, girlfriend of the quarterback and HBIC. Coach Sylvester's recent tones slipped into mind about 'her thin but _forgettable _alto_.' _In the chilled quiet of the morning, an empty laugh escapes because, _yeah_, Quinn realised how her skills were never quite on par with the rest of the group. Her voice hadn't been enough to be called a diva like Rachel, Mercedes, Tina or Santana. And similarly, even her ballet and gymnastics background hadn't given her the rhythm to match the ones known as the dancers: Mike, Matt and Brittany.

However, none of those sharp painful reflections changed the scene in front of her._ Rachel Berry. _

Lo and behold, there the singer was, fluttering about, placing copies of music sheets in cupboards and piano stands _during the ass crack of dawn_. Completely oblivious to Quinn's presence, Rachel hummed and skipped around the room with an enviable and childish sense of happiness. She was different during scenes like this one, where she was without the neurotic quirks and headed-for-Broadway airs. Rachel seemed almost likeable and _normal,_ as she tripped over the leg of one of the stools and looked around nervously for an audience. The singer's head would oscillate like one of those meerkats on the discovery channel, managing to reach descriptions _endearing and sweet_.

Quinn had always cursed the universe for orchestrating these series of events. The blonde couldn't figure out why, out of all the people in glee club, that she had to be the one to collide with Rachel during moments when they both weren't their usual selves. Rachel being a little less blinded by personal goals and vindications, and Quinn, a lot more vulnerable and accepting of care. It's almost frightening how the memory of Rachel's voice managed to stand against Sue's: '_we need you...we need your tremulous alto and your Belinda Carlisle glamour…_

They were such different views, but somehow, Quinn found herself cautiously trusting the singer's declarations more. Maybe it was because Rachel Berry had never been a liar. Even when Quinn was at her most unstable, the singer had felt the need to poke, prod and push; so apparently unafraid of the repercussions. Quinn's quite sure that this was a mistake waiting to blow up in her face but the loneliness of watching her used-to-be friends carry on was surely destroying her further. There were times when she thought that her presence in the group made a difference; that she could change the endings into something _better_.

_In this instance_, Quinn wonders if she could have done more than just flick her disintegrating cigarette at the flammable liquid covered purple piano. It had been her way of warning the motley crew. It had _still_ astounded her how none of them saw it, what Santana and the cheerios were up to behind the backdrop of Blaine's performance.

Quinn has trouble _not feeling guilty_ because she has always been a part of the unholy trinity. Since that first day of practice, she had stopped Brittany from a flying trick that would have broken her neck and a provocative mid-routine choreography that would have devalued Santana's worth. From the very beginning, there had been an assurance that Sue would be Quinn's problem to deal with and _protected from_. The ex-captain was _important_. She was _needed_. It just startled the blonde, that Rachel Berry was the one to communicate the notion in a way that actually _meant something. _

There's a lull, as the singer reaches the last bars of the song that she's humming. Rachel has nearly finished unstacking the chairs and there's a small pout and frown, as she rights the odd piece of misaligned furniture. It seemed like an opening, a perfect time as Quinn cleared her voice. She finally interrupts the idyllic atmosphere. And as warm brown eyes snap up to hazels, her voice is huskier than she thought it would be.

"I'm coming back to glee club."

At the news, Rachel eyes widened and her mouth dropped open in surprise. She hadn't quite filtered the blonde's statement as her eyes tried to sear the present image in mind. Despite bloodshot eyes and tear-tracked mascara, _in her white sundress_, Quinn is still every bit breathtaking. Rachel takes a moment just to _appreciate_. It causes her mouth to become dry and her heart to beat more demandingly. She tells herself that her reactions are normal because there wasn't anybody on the planet that could deny how pretty Quinn Fabray was. Rachel tried to remind herself that the excitement spreading through her nerves was solely due the _exterior_, and not the internal traits and characteristics of the blonde. However when, recollections of their rare conversations slip to the forefront... _I said what you wanted me to. He shot me down. So congrats, looks like he really loves you... _It's certainly _harder_.

The singer blinked slowly before taking steps towards Quinn. She tried to contain her enthusiasm at the other girl's return. Unthinkingly, her hands reach out grasp Quinn's. She has to mask her shock when the taller girl doesn't automatically yell or pull away.

"What? Quinn that's great! I'm so happy that you finally came to your senses and realised that we are your family. Perhaps, a very mismatched and dysfunctional one, but a family all the same."

There's a brilliance and innocence in Rachel's smile that encourages Quinn to do the same. But maybe that wasn't always possible for those who had once been villains. So, hers comes out a little small, almost imperceptible and lost. A whispered sentiment leaves her lips.

"Rachel…"

Hearing the reluctance and pain in Quinn's tone, Rachel her eyes squeezes shut and she stops breathing for a while. She doesn't want to hear it. She doesn't want to _believe it, _because Rachel would swear up and down that the world doesn't have to be _tragic; _that people weren't just sum of their past mistakes but the _heroics_ as well.

" - you can even join Mike's dance boot camp even if you don't really need it. Like how Santana and Brittany are going as well-"

Rachel thought that maybe if she just kept speaking and offering up alternatives, she could stumble onto a way out for the blonde. The singer thought that they could find the keys to Quinn's self-imposed prison; removing that haunted look _once and for all_. So tightening her grip on Quinn's hands, Rachel renews her promise to be a friend.

Immersed in her own designs, she overlooks the fact that instead of healing the blonde, her goodwill continued to cause cracks in a barely glued together composure.

"Rachel. Stop!"

The desperate words are almost yelled as they resonate throughout the room. Quinn's eyes are glistening as she stares at the back corner_._

"What is it, Quinn?"

The question is met with a stony silence. A tumult of emotions flutters across Quinn's face, occasionally disturbing her beauty, but almost _always_ creating more depth. Silently, Rachel wonders if the blonde was always this expressive. Or had they simply been so preoccupied by their own lives that they had neglected to see past the strong facade. For all the glee club's mottos of equality, family and support, _they had let Quinn down_. They had ignored the blonde's pathologically silent episodes and rage that built up behind hazel eyes, _just because_ Quinn hadn't admitted that she could be _weak_; _that she was a mess too. _She had been, since giving up Beth...

And it's with that notion, which pressure begins in the singer's chest. Tentatively, she reaches up to Quinn's neck, bringing the blonde's face back down towards hers. There's a gap, as they both summon the bravery for their words and actions to be something more than a weapon or a crutch.

"What is it? Is everything ok?"

With the feelings that interlaced fingers generate, the way they hold each other's gaze and the closeness of their bodies; _it's almost enough_. They nearly abandon their reservations and start the _unexpected_ path. However, a sudden movement happens outside of the choir room window; probably_ a bird or something_ and the spell is broken. Quinn finds that familiar vice tighten around her heart and lungs. The stabbing pain is an old friend providing the embers for anger to burn again. She disrupts the contact of their hands, and shies away into the shadows. She begins a slow walk to the _other side of the piano_. The physical presence of the instrument acting as a reminder _that she couldn't do this again_.

Taking a deep breath, her index finger traces the black polished surface, shaking away the remnants of warmth, camaraderie and a desire to belong. She tells herself that the notion of being _special_ was just pretend. She tells herself that the lightness of her re-dyed hair colour was not a reflection of her soul. However, before all of that becomes cemented, Quinn speaks carefully. She's simply sorry about their past.

"Like you said Rachel, we were never really close. But maybe because of all the crap that I put you through in freshman year, I thought that you at least deserved a warning."

A dark chuckle escapes as the craziness of her next plan comes to mind. She questions whether she'll get away with it. Not that it mattered because _every which way_, it promised a finish to these _feelings_. She would either, gain Beth and let go of her past to raise her one perfect thing, _or_, she would finally lose enough of herself to be irredeemable and incapable of hope. She'd finally be _done_ and desensitised to the hurt.

"I'm not returning to glee club for tributes to The Go-Go's, Mariah Carey or what ever life lesson that Mr Schue is convinced of for the week."

Quinn takes the singer's confusion in stride as she closes the distance slowly. With each step, she refuses to be distracted by Rachel's captivated gaze because it wasn't like the tremor in Quinn's voice and hands actually _stood for anything_, right? So, they're almost out of reasons to prolong the interaction as the blonde quietly admits.

"You won't like the real reason, and _believe me_ it's not nice or anything team-work or music related."

The regret in Quinn's voice causes sadness to invade Rachel's heart. She has no idea why they're doing this,_ the truth thing_. Rachel's not sure what the other girl is trying to accomplish because if it's _hate_, Quinn needed to try a lot harder. If it's _suspicion_ then the blonde needed to commit the evil deed first, because the singer wasn't willing to jump to conclusions based on her own insecurities anymore. Staring at the shell of the blonde now, Rachel thinks that she _finally_ comprehends the damage that it causes. And in the end, if _understanding_ was the desired conclusion, then Quinn needn't push herself at all, _because she already had Rachel's_.

Only it was none of those things…

Rachel stands frozen as Quinn leans in further. The blonde's height makes the situation more than a little unfair, as Rachel has to tilt her head up to meet the angry glare awaiting her. She closes her eyes as the vehemence as blonde's words leaves a wince on her face and the scent of mint toothpaste in the air.

"Rachel, when everything comes to light and the other shoe drops...you should know that you and you bio mom are _responsible_. You should know that this is your _fault_."

The cutting tone manages a hole in the singer's defenses. Rachel is taken aback. She looked at the girl who was still _so furious_ with the world and the _circumstances endured_. Briefly, Rachel questions _what_ Shelby could have said to make the blonde that little more wild and broken. And despite the steps taken to mend their mother-daughter relationship, Rachel is certainly annoyed at the older woman for doing that. She thinks that _even though_ Shelby had probably gone through similar experiences, it didn't entitle her to approach Quinn with any sort of admonishment.

Lessons learned in hindsight were just that: _hindsight_. And nobody deserved the condescension for a situation that hadn't played itself out yet.

Still, for Rachel to voice that aloud _does even less good now_. With Quinn's face a hairsbreadth away: cynical, anguished and _wild, _the singer is unsure about how to fix this. All she knows is that she'll cry for every devastation and confess to any sin. She tries not to break under Quinn's cheerless and jaded murmur.

"_...You just couldn't let me go, could you?"_

_No._

Rachel closes her fists. She doesn't like that it's a question. She's even more ashamed that it's a legitimate one. After all, they had never commended the blonde's song choices, acknowledged her value or shown that Quinn might _just have been_ irreplaceable. In fact, most of them were more content to find new members in _Sugar Motta_ than to retrieve their missing friend. _It didn't say much about them_. Rachel retreats into herself. She bites her bottom lip, trying to forget how Quinn's blonde strands grazed her cheek when she spoke with such intent. Rachel convinces herself that when Quinn eases and stumbles on her next statements; it has nothing to do with making her feel better.

_Quinn didn't feel anything for the tears escaping the singer's eyes._

"Rachel...you just had to come and _want me back_."

There's a break as the words find their mark. When Quinn speaks again, the bite disappears from voice.

"So now, you better be ready for the consequences."

She's simply out of options, as she turns and heads for the door. Before she makes it, she's stopped by Rachel's whisper.

"We can handle it you know."

Quinn scoffed. She thought about the glee club that transformed so easily into a group of petty children. Rachel reads the disbelief and straightens. She tucks a strand of rebellious dark hair behind her ear and speaks again. There's defiance and determination to her features as she refuses to let Quinn depart with depressing premonitions and a broken spirit. So, Rachel follows, hoping to catch the blonde's attention. _Turn around_, the internal voice will scream. There's so much left to say, so much they couldn't do. But maybe they could give each other peace despite past wars and old scars. Rachel swears that there's more to keep Quinn in this place. She's lost in the blonde's expressions as sincerity runs rampant from her lips.

"..._I_ can deal with anything you throw at me. _God knows I already have for so long_..."

The latter part causes a sharp inhale. Quinn fights with herself _not to retaliate_. She doesn't gather her defenses fast enough because before she can any make progress to the exit, Rachel's fierce words cut across the distance _a third time_.

"Quinn, just as long as you're back in glee club, where you _belong_, where people _really_ _care_ about you and will there to pick up the pieces... _believe me,_ I can take it!"

The blonde lets her hand linger on the archway of the door, refusing to turn around. Spending time with Rachel Berry was an odd experience. You could promise yourself that you knew your own personality and how you would react, but for Quinn _it's not true_. Instead, she'd describe it as a constant Russian roulette of emotions, truthful assessments and unexpected complications, as the singer becomes harder and harder to ignore. However, perhaps fortune is giving her a chance, because _this time_ she's able to do the first thing that comes to mind. _This time_, Quinn's able to walk out the door without looking back.


	3. Chapter 3 - Magic is Back

_**- Senior Year - Week: The Magic is Back **_

Rachel bristled, as she paced back and forth in the outside of the auditorium. They wouldn't let her in, doubtful of her ability to be impartial and respectful. So with Mr Schue and Finn inside watching Shelby's new glee club perform, Rachel went over the events of the day. Her thoughts kept lingering on Santana's smirk as she strode away from New Directions with Brittany in tow. Rachel huffed. For all of Santana's complaints about it being _the Rachel Show_, the proposed alternative wasn't much better. It'd be the same problem with a different headlining act, and then, who would be next to challenge it? _Tina_?

To say that there wasn't a variation or hierarchy to everyone's vocals would be a lie. They were participating in a _competition_. It didn't make sense not to put your best foot forward. Still, it wasn't as if they didn't feature any the others. Santana had Valerie last year at Sectionals. Brittany and Artie carried the bulk of Light up the World during Nationals in New York. And, even Quinn and Sam paved the way with (I've Had) The Time of My Life. So Rachel finds herself confused and disgruntled because a question continues to dominate her thoughts: _why, why now?_

She had only just gotten their family back together.

Last Friday Night had been a _fun_ performance. The catchy tune brought everyone to his or her feet and for a moment, Blaine _did _manage to bring the magic back. Santana's response was unsolicited. Rachel recalls the sharp words, sarcastic tone and self-important swagger out the door. Funnily enough though, it still wasn't the thing that unnerved Rachel the most. Instead, it was the look Santana gave Quinn as she left, an expectant invitation to join her.

_But Quinn didn't. _

Instead, the blonde had acknowledged the exchange but looked down to her lap. Quinn had been empathetic and sheepish, but firm in her decision to stay. _That: _was what caused the somersaults in Rachel's stomach and she didn't know why. It's the end of the day as students make a last round for their belongings before pushing past the tall metal gates. Rachel spots Quinn by the lockers, returning her books to a red duffel bag. Almost too quickly, the blonde is finished and moving towards the car park. Torn between waiting for Finn and determining the reason for her anxiety, Rachel's gaze jumps from the auditorium door to Quinn's purposeful gait. _She makes a split second decision. _

"Quinn!"

Hearing the rapid footsteps and recognizing the voice, the blonde rolls her eyes and keeps going. After figuring out that Shelby was nothing but a perfect mother to Beth, she _really_ didn't have the patience to deal with this today.

"Quinn, _please_."

This time, there's something in the way that singer's voice breaks. Somehow, Quinn finds herself rubbing the stress from her forehead as she turns around. There's just a hint of indulgence in her expression as she sighs tiredly.

"What, Rachel?"

"Why didn't you follow Santana? Defect to Shelby's little show choir. I mean Brittany left, _so why didn't you_?

The _accusations in a different form_ tumbles from the singer's lips without much resistance. Although the content was expected, Quinn had quirk her eyebrow at the force behind the queries. _Trust Rachel to surprise her with the delivery._

"What's keeping you here?"

The desperate confusion surrounding the last question lingers. For a second, Quinn just waits to see if there's any more before answering. She had felt the tension radiate from the small brunette the _instant_ Santana had expressed her frustrations to the group. She had noticed the way that Rachel would stare at her profile afterwards like Quinn was a mirage or something. There was a guarded sense of optimism as if she didn't expect Quinn to choose New Directions, _to choose her._

However, eventually their history catches up to them. Old uncertainties and hesitations begin to creep up and before Quinn can come up with anything remotely plausible, Rachel jumps in with hollow words.

"...because as hopeful as I am about New Directions being a balm for your current psychological state, if you're just staying to be a spy, I'd rather you just save us all the trouble now."

Quinn tilts her head. The sentences are verbose, rushed and meshed together in a manner that would be deemed charming during another time. Quinn examines how Rachel's posture grows defensive and eyes become downcast. The singer entertains a snippet of self-loathing at her own impulsivity. She didn't want to say that. Feeling Quinn step closer, the brunette swears that she didn't mean it. _She'd like the blonde to stay. _

With Rachel's increasingly flustered state, Quinn finally puts her hand to rest on the singer's shoulder. It takes a forceful shake and a slight smile to end the self-recrimination. It's a kind act that incurs a cost later, when Quinn is about to be cruel. The blonde would think back to this moment and entertain doubts over what she was doing. But for now, Quinn simply lets the quiet go on for a bit longer, until some semblance of calm returns to passionate brown eyes. When Rachel trembles and recalls who she's _always been so proud to be_, Quinn nods lightly and takes a step back. The usual status quo is restored except, _not quite_, because the Quinn of the old wouldn't have bothered to explain herself. She would think that she shouldn't have to, _least of all to Rachel Berry. _But perhaps after a couple of years with Mr Schue, being lectured on _morals_, Quinn has developed a nagging sense of loyalty to the girl who couldn't quite leave her alone. So, she's logical and _surprisingly tolerant_ as she breaks the situation down.

"First, when have I ever _followed_ Santana to anything?"

Rachel's nose wrinkles at the familiar arrogance to the question. _Yeah, suddenly she remembers who she's talking to. _And what _should have_ caused her to baulk or turn her nose away; _doesn't,_ because she'd rather hear the unpleasant truths than a placating lie. It's during these interactions that she trusts the blonde above all others.

"I make my own decisions... my own _mistakes_ based on _what I want_."

Quinn continues, knowing that it hasn't been smooth sailing and perhaps, it never would be. She reviews all the things she's done and it's sad to think that her lasting legacy might just be an effective method to make other students cry. Sometimes, she loses herself in a daydream and considers her life if she had been different. If somehow, in her own twisted way Lucy had loved herself a little less, bypassing the hair-dye and nose job.

Would she be more valiant, comfortable or _loved_? _Would she have been happier? _Maybe. Possibly. _Probably..._

However, Quinn also acknowledges that those thoughts are just dead-end streets that distracted from reality. She tells herself that after _everything associated with Bellevue,_ she wouldn't _look back anymore._ She's still _learning_ and occasionally when she gets it right: convincing Mercedes to stop starving herself for Sue's impossible standards or teaching Sam how to ignore the slushies; Quinn's maybe the girl that all the lovesick boys _thought they saw_.

"And right now? Right this minute? Shelby's team doesn't have anything, or anybody, that _matters_ to me."

The blonde's eyes are busier as she tries to get herself under control. The truth was such a rare thing that when said out loud, she couldn't stop the breathlessness, the vulnerability and the world that felt like it was closing in. Rachel can't help but ask.

"_What matters to you Quinn?"_

Due to soft tones and the small space in between, the question feels more intimate than it should, and both girls subconsciously take a step back.

..._I wish I knew_

They deceive themselves into believing that they're unafraid, ignoring the current in the air and the dampness of their palms. Frustrated, Quinn runs her fingers through her hair as she tries to compose an answer rather than just lashing out. To some extent, she understands Rachel's need for an assurance that they weren't headed towards a train-wreck. She agrees with the singer's desire to comprehend the decision-making matrix of _people like Brittany, Santana and herself, _because then, maybe it would be easier to forgive the future disgrace. But, it's a lost cause because there were some secrets that couldn't be shared. It was never _just_ _Quinn's_ composure at stake.

"Look, I had _fun_ in glee club today, dancing and singing with Blaine and the rest of you to a Katy Perry song. So... I'm going to stay..."

Rachel looks up. Her eyes are warm and grateful for the positive comment. For some reason, the word '_stay'_ seems so much like a promise. Quinn stares at the singer a little longer. Wistfully, she thinks about what it would be like to be able to own up to one's shortcomings. In a random impulse, her gaze lingers on the singer's prominent nose. Quinn recalls the tears that had been reflected in both their eyes during the final moments of their duet performance. She had been worried that they might actually _know each other_: more so enemies, yet far less than _friends_. For a moment, Quinn wants to tell Rachel that she was _beautiful,_ but instead, what comes out is another explanation that had nothing to do with the ideas swirling around her mind. She's a coward because she'd rather answer Rachel's original question.

"Santana didn't. She felt out of place and out of the limelight. So she left. Sometimes, it _is_ that simple and _Sue Sylvester's wicked cheerleaders aren't really out to destroy the world…"_

Rachel stiffened. There's resignation in Quinn's story telling. The singer feels the warmth leave her as once again, their brief truce is over. Like a ghost, Quinn had pulled away and disappeared around the corner _like she was never there_.


	4. Chapter 4 - Hold onto Sixteen

_**Senior Year - Week: Hold on to Sixteen **_

Rachel collapsed backwards onto the comfort of her king-size bed. She moaned at the relief that her custom-made posturepedic mattress afforded her. Despite not actually being allowed to perform due to her suspension, Rachel found that preparing for the competition was still a draining experience. Between the dramas of bringing Sam back, Puck sleeping with Shelby and the trouble-tones: it felt as if a win might not be in the cards this year or at the very least, heavily dependent on personality of the judges and good fortune. However, as she felt Finn's arms encircled her waist comfortingly, Rachel supposes that there were still other reasons to be positive. The couple lay peacefully for while. Rachel fiddled with Finn's hands, finally deciding to address the tension he had been exuding ever since the dance rehearsal with the boys.

"Finn, what's going on?"

The question causes the footballer to freeze, disentangle their bodies and sit up. He had his face in hands as he muttered in annoyance and with a fire that seemed a bit too bright.

"I can't believe what Blaine said to Sam. I mean _I'm not for sale_. What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

Finn finished roughly, moving to a stand. Rachel clasped her hands patiently, watching the scene. She hadn't been blind to the animosity between Blaine and Finn ever since the Dalton boy transferred. Whenever Blaine would sing a pop song, the next day Finn would so quickly counter with an old rock ballad. Whenever Blaine talked poetry, comic books and dance moves with Artie and Mike; you would hear Finn mention football, computer games and the possibility of a garage band to Puck and Sam. At the beginning it seemed benign, something that _boys_ went through before slapping each other on the backs with wide grins. It hadn't occurred to Rachel that it might affect sectionals.

So, she tries to gather Finn's attention.

"Finn."

In the heat of the moment, as dozens of other irate thoughts come to mind, Finn doesn't hear Rachel. Instead, he begins to pace. He finds that his thoughts become bolder as he ignores that voice in his mind that tells him to be kind.

"Sam danced, _that's all he did_. He did what he had to do to help put food on the table for his family. That's something to be proud of!"

Seeing the incorporation of taut shoulders and fists stuffed in pockets, Rachel tries to intervene once more. This time, she's a little louder.

"_Finn._"

The distress in the footballer's eyes brought conflict to his facial features. Briefly, he'd look up and acknowledge Rachel's presence. She's sitting on the bed poised with her feminine blouse, knee length skirt and animal cardigan. The corners of his eyes would crinkle as the anxiety begins to dissipate. He tries to keep his displeasure but finds that it's difficult to do. A part of it was due to the fact that he never had the personality needed to hold a grudge. But perhaps a larger part was that he couldn't find a good enough reason to be unhappy when Rachel looked at him with affection and respect shining in her eyes. All he wants to do is to be someone she didn't have to settle for.

So, quietly he'll say his peace.

"Blaine just comes in, telling us what to think and how to dance like we're his background singers. It just makes me so angry Rach…"

The singer smiles and asks gently.

"Are you finished?"

Finn nods. There's a moment when he thinks about how far they've come and how much they've grown up. He wonders when Rachel developed such calm and ability to see more than one perspective. Not even one year ago, Finn could so easily imagine the singer's automatic judgment, arguments and admonishments for his behaviour and thoughts. And whilst the present change is certainly better, Finn swears that he loved her even back then, _crazy tendencies and all_.

"Finn, come sit next to me. Take a deep breath."

The footballer follows the singer's instructions. Despite the uncertainty of colleges looming over the horizon, he figures that he'd follow Rachel anywhere. He feels a fluttering in his stomach as Rachel places her petite hands over his. Closing his eyes, he lets her voice wash over him, reminding him of all reasons why he could never let go of their connection ever since that first day.

_Girls want sex just as much as guys do... Are we a part of something special, you and me? ...You're the only guy for me._

"I know it's stressful right now because of my suspension and everything, but I want you to stop and just think about what's going on."

Finn thought for a second. The rebuttal that comes out wasn't what he meant to say.

"What? That Blaine's being a jerk?"

Rachel breathed deeply. She rubbed Finn's shoulders and answered truthfully.

"No, but maybe you are."

His head snaps up to the statement. With the words said, he expects disappointment, derision or something in that area code. But, those feelings aren't there. Instead, Rachel is simply concerned about the extent of the damage that her opinion might have caused. She's just trying to find ways to make it better and make him understand at the same time. The footballer treasures her more for it.

"Finn, you know I love and respect Sam as a friend, as a singer and as a dancer. But, think about where we found him and what he was doing…"

The image came quickly to mind. He had been right about one thing when Finn said that the performance wasn't something he could ever _un-see._ There had been to many middle-aged women. The atmosphere along with the glitter and ambiguous lighting had made him feel out of his element. Finn presses his lips together, unwilling to admit it out loud. Perhaps, Rachel recognises that, because she paints the picture for him.

"Sam was dancing provocatively, for money. He was selling his athleticism and the way he can make his body move for a collection of dollar bills."

Rachel feels the distaste of the description in her mouth long after the conversation moves on. It wasn't due to any judgment towards Sam for electing to go there, but the tenants and concepts behind the job in the first place. It had prayed on Sam's financial desperation. It had taken advantage of his boy-next-door appearance and it had attempted to sum up his value in 15-minute shifts. It wasn't deserved. _It wasn't right._

"Finn, can you really blame Blaine, who comes from a more conservative and protected background, for feeling uncomfortable about performing a dance that is associated with that?"

The football player stared concentrated at the ground, refusing to answer. Rachel placed a hand on his cheek, forcing him to look into her eyes.

"Be honest, what did you think when you first saw Sam in that, for lack of a better description, revealing construction's man uniform?"

Finn's closed his eyes and turns his face away. He refused to say it. He wouldn't dishonour Sam. Rachel finds herself hurting along with Finn, and tries a different tack.

"Remember Sunshine?"

Finn nods. Rachel sighs. It had taken a long time for her to be able to admit her mistakes.

"Do you remember why I acted out and sent her to that abandoned crack den?"

At that question, Finn looked up. He was confused, wondering why Rachel would ask him such a question. They both knew the answer and it wasn't something they talked too much about. Finn didn't want to attack Rachel that way. But, under the promise of safety from Rachel's fond gaze, Finn finds the words slipping out.

"Because you were jealous and threatened."

This time, Rachel is the one that nods and then there's just a long pause. Gears shift in Finn's mind and he finds that old scenario superimposed on his current one. As he works through each step, he feels the conclusion coming around the bend. There's a moment, when his head lifts and his eyes light up. He leans closer to Rachel and places a sweet kiss to her lips. Finn so thankful that she was willing to dredge up her past suffering to help him understand.

"I get it Rach. I do."

Rachel laughs and stays in the embrace. Their noses bump playfully against each other's and Finn in a moment of compete lucidity whispers.

"I don't know what I'd do without you..."

"You won't have to..."

It's a bold promise. One that: adolescents probably had no business to be making. But, with such powerful emotions driving the exchange, it felt like it _could be true._ Finn finally pulls back and asks happily.

"Hey, do you want to hang out for lunch today. You could help me with my vocals for tonight's performance?"

They both smile, remembering old ruses about _helping and practicing in the auditorium_. Rachel nods cheerfully but not before registering the time on the clock and moving to stand. The outside world returns to mind and the one other person that seemed to preoccupy her thoughts once again disturbs her.

"I'd love to Finn. I'll see you then, but right now I have to find Quinn and make sure she doesn't tell Shelby anything."

Finn raised his eyebrows, not entirely sure about what Rachel was talking about but he lets it go. He's glad that Rachel was so persistent because she brought back someone he cared about. And though Finn knows he and Quinn still had a long way to go to repair their friendship; he's thankful that despite the fact that she could never handle being lonely, the blonde cared enough about him, to step aside and watch him be with Rachel.

"Ok. I'll wait for you in the auditorium then?"

He asks, as Rachel carries her bag in hand heads for the door. The singer smiles broadly.

"Sure."

Then, in a hurry she's gone. He stays there for a while, standing in the center of her room.

/


	5. Chapter 5 - The First Time

_**Senior Year - Week: The First Time**_

The bell rang. It signaled an end to the day. Rachel found herself trying to weave through the crowd to reach the choir room. Artie had called an emergency rehearsal to address the distinct lack of sexual chemistry between Tony and Maria. The criticism had stung.

Barely making it past the lockers, she's pushed by someone to the left. The force of the motion rips a cry of surprise from her lips and causes her to stumble into an empty classroom. Rachel reaches her hand out for a chair to balance herself. The situation doesn't distress her as much as it should, although she's certainly annoyed by the rudeness. The least she was owed was an apology. Still, she doesn't linger on the notion for too long, quickly straightening out her clothes and hair. When she's done, her eyes follow the shadow on the floor to the doorway and _she freezes_. Her eyes narrow curiously and she tilts her head in confusion. The lecture about manners dies on her lips...

_Quinn_ stands by the door with a conflicted expression. For a second, it seems like the blonde is just going to leave and forget this event altogether. However, then her eyes drop down and Rachel is nervously tracing the golden chain around her neck, you know, _the one that said Finn_. Quinn clenches her jaw, and when she speaks there's a sorrow that the smaller girl doesn't understand.

"Don't do it, Rachel."

The singer pauses. She considers lying.

"Do what?"

Somehow, the question is tainted by what they both already know. Quinn sighed, uncrossing her arms and walking into the room. She takes a moment to close the door. They both prefer the quiet anyway, where they're not under pressures to be so stoic and indifferent. Quinn eventually turns around and leans against the desk opposite Rachel. Her gaze carries the usual weight as she interprets the singer's ticks and changes, checking to see that the truth wasn't going to destroy Rachel. When she's sure, she releases the patient forecast into the cluttered space of the room.

"…_Rush home_: to set up the candles, lay out the expensive bedsheets and put on a get up that you're not even old enough to _consider_ wearing…"

Quinn grimaced as she pictured it..._or whatever romantic notion Rachel had in her head_. Funnily enough, the blonde figured that this was how it was all going to end. Rachel being so headstrong, and needing to prove some ridiculous point to herself; the brunette was ready to use any excuse. During the emergency girl's meeting that the singer had called earlier, it had been so obvious that rationality would play a very small role in this. But, between Brittany's naiveté towards a near-rape and Santana's bored recollection of Finn's prowess, Quinn supposes the moment that they really boarded the reckless or insanity train was when Tina offered her story of _a rare happy fairytale_. Almost vividly, Quinn recalled how brown eyes widened and filled with hope. Everything else had fallen by the wayside…

So, when Rachel sprung up from her seat during the end of their AP English class with such a determined expression, maybe Quinn felt a sense of responsibility. Maybe, she needed to protect the girl who had once upon a time, sacrificed her own undergarments to Jacob Ben Israel in an effort to keep the blonde's pregnancy under wraps. Looking at Rachel's downcast expression, Quinn will confess that in some small way she depended on the other girl's innocence. She didn't want the possibly bad experience to _change_ Rachel, like it had her. With such a bright future in store, Quinn didn't want Rachel's life to become _any more complicated_.

"Just wait. _Be sure_ that he's the right guy."

Under the emotion in the blonde's voice, Rachel finds herself disorientated with the only thought that comes to mind.

"_I love Finn."_

The sincerity in the three words leads Quinn to smile ruefully as she brushes one of her blonde strands behind her ear.

"I'm not saying that you don't."

With that, she pushes off from her position and takes a couple of slow steps towards Rachel. She watched how tiny shoulders seemed to shake under the weight of everything and yet, there was one thing that stood out. When the two girls were alone, Rachel remembered why she relied on the blonde so much. For all those taunts about everything, it was never about belittling a truth. Quinn has never maintained that Rachel was without talent or that it was greatly exaggerated. She had only ever complained about the mode of presentation and the obnoxious attitude that sometimes followed. Quinn had never denied the singer's attachment to Finn. Arguably, it was _because_ she was the _only one_ that could really perceive it as something _real_, which was what had caused her to feel so threatened in the first place.

For a moment, they just wait. They're not entirely sure _how _this goes because for all intents and purposes, a healthy friendship was something new. Rachel couldn't imagine having only a superficial vocal rivalry with Quinn. And Quinn didn't want to just treat Rachel like a valued subordinate. So they'll tread lightly, based on makeshift road signs and vigilantly scanning for pitfalls. Slowly, with a soft touch, Quinn brings the singer's tear-stained face to light. She speaks as if this was the most important lesson left to learn.

"Rachel, you're only _seventeen_ years old. Thoughts and feelings might still change. But, the mistake of going through with it? Of losing yourself to the wrong person or _just because_ the world says that it's time, that'll stay with you."

Her voice gets thicker and a faraway quality enters her eyes.

"That will haunt you and... no amount of singing about it will make it better."

Rachel swallows. She can't quite look away.

"And you care because?"

Quinn stopped moving. Her eyes flickered around the room in that usual way when it felt like she was being cornered. Competing arguments flashed through her mind as she fought for some kind of coherence. Eventually, the tension disappears and it's like she's _decided_ as her gaze makes a commitment to Rachel. She repeats the sentiments that the singer had spoken at the start of the year.

"We were friends once right?"

Rachel nods. There's a pause and Quinn can't help but feel a little unsteady about her next words. She thinks it might be a little too honest. Nevertheless, there'd probably never had been a real choice to say no, because Rachel could be quite relentless.

"_Maybe that matters." _

The short explanation feels profound in the silence that follows. Recognition dawns in Rachel's eyes as she recalls a previous conversation. _What matters to you Quinn..._But before she's able to bring it up, the blonde raises a preemptive hand. With a dismissive shake of her head, Quinn thinks she doesn't want to talk about it.

She strides out the door.

/

_**Opening night…**_

Rachel lay awake as she stared at the ceiling of Finn's bedroom. The space itself was a mishmash of comic book heroes and football memorabilia, a perfect depiction of a gentle and simple personality. The part that Rachel enjoyed most was the rare sprinkle of glow-in-the-dark stars that had been hastily tacked on the plaster. She had asked Finn about it once. And with reddened cheeks and a shy tone, the boy had explained that sometimes when he couldn't sleep, the tiny sources of light reminded him of world of wonder outside of Lima yet to be explored. It gave him hope that there was still something to reach for. The night he had told her that, Rachel felt her breath catch and her heart race. _She thought that she had found her person_.

Looking back now, the conclusion is still not in doubt. Rachel turns to her side and stares at Finn's sleeping profile. She wished she could help the feeling of unrest settling in her belly as she replayed the earlier conversations.

_He didn't like me the recruiter…It means that I suck...It means that I am going to be stuck here forever..._

Her eyes shut tightly in an effort to _forget_. The utter anguish stole the air from her lungs. People said that the eyes were the windows to the soul, that with one _single glance_ you could discern the truth from a lie. Well Rachel has no idea if that's true, she was never good at figuring things out based on appearances. She wasn't anything like Quinn or Santana. So instead, she relied on sounds, voices and tones. Changes in pitch could elevate her pulse to a flutter. And a thick raw tone drew on her compassionate side, whilst a loss in the ability to speak meant so much more than just a broken heart…

Finn's soft snoring communicated a carefree innocence, that for the first time, the singer felt numb to. Sadness began to overtake, and in the dark, Rachel holds onto the covers as tight as she can. The thick material muffles her whimpers. It hadn't been a bad experience. Finn had been so gentle, devoted and caring. During the passion of the moment, it was everything she wanted. It was with _who _she wanted. However, nobody told Rachel about the question that would plague her afterwards: _why_, _why now_ and not later. The singer swallows. She traces her hand along Finn's jaw. He looks far more peaceful in dreams than awake, and it's a terrifying conclusion that she reaches.

Their first time: it _shouldn't have started from despair. It shouldn't have been so...desperate._

_I'm not good enough... I'm not a good enough quarterback to get a scholarship...I'm not a good enough singer to get into NYADA._

_Your dreams are not dead! You've just grown out of them. You just have to find new ones now. You're special…_

Maybe Rachel thought that their relationship could be his dream. She had hoped...Well she thought that maybe love could save him. Looking back, it was probably a misguided notion. Change had to begin with Finn. Whatever she had done, whatever _they _had _shared_ would only be a temporary balm. It was quite possible that in the long run this would damage them more. The thought alone sent a chill down her spine.

Still, Rachel swore that she wouldn't let herself be trapped in regret. So, she told him that it wasn't about her role as Maria. She told him that it wasn't about making him feel better. She told him that _today and tonight_ was only about _them. _

_She lied... most of all to herself..._

Suddenly, the room felt suffocating. Small imperfections got blown up in her mind and Finn's arm seemed more like a cage. Rachel found herself reaching for her cell phone and clothes. She couldn't be here. She couldn't stay in this _room_, in this _bed_ and _with this boy_, knowing that her expressions could betray her. She couldn't imagine hurting him like that. So, it would just be a brief escape and a rare attempt at distance. Rachel needed to sort her emotions out because amidst her confusion, she holds onto the belief that _Finn was worth it. _Given the chance,she could persuade herself using flow charts and PowerPoint presentations that their first time had been right, _perfect even. _Rachel thinks believes they had a long happily ever after waiting for them, if they could just get it right in the present time.

She's so immersed in trying to get that zipper to slide up the cotton material of the dress when she hears the confused and weary voice.

"Uh, Rach what are you doing? What's going on?

Her eyes squeeze shut and the first tear of the night slides down her cheek. Rachel trembles, refusing to turn around. Her words come out choppy and uncharacteristically muddled.

"Nothing Finn. Just go back to sleep."

The singer prays that he won't ask questions. She hopes that he will let her be strong enough to withstand the emotions flooding her small frame. Her heart is racing. Her skin still tingles in memory of touch, and love removes her ability to hide. So, Rachel grips her jacket tightly and silently pleads for him to _let her go._

"But, where are you going?"

There's more alertness to the question now as the bed rustles and Rachel is sure that Finn is sitting upright. She imagines that he'll be getting dressed soon; ready to follow her to the ends of the earth. A spasm happens in her chest and she tries to inject some lightness to her tone. She needed him to stay.

"I have to go home Finn. I just remembered that there's something I have to do in the morning and all the things I need are in my room."

A pause. Finn stares at the singer's back. He thinks that she looks a little not like her usual self but he _doesn't understand how._ He's hoping that she'll tell him like she usually does and might always need to do in the future. It won't occur to him till they're older and have spent some time apart, that this system wouldn't have worked forever. It wasn't a relationship of equals.

"Oh ok. Are you sure I didn't do something wrong?"

The worried question escapes before Finn can stop it. He watches his girlfriend tense. She still won't look his way and it scared him more than he could ever put into words.

"No Finn. You didn't do anything wrong. I just have to go. I'll see you tomorrow."

Finn's shoulders drop at the placating statement. Although, the contents of her sentence took away any sense of blame or responsibility, somehow the kindness felt out of place. It felt like Rachel wasn't really standing there, as if she might be already gone and their conversation was just a formality. The tall boy furrows his brows, looking around for his worn T-shirt and sneakers.

"Just let me get dressed I'll take you home."

As he finally finds his keys, Rachel stops him. Her small hand rested on his shoulder and she's _finally looking at him again_. He searches her eyes for information, _anything_ to help him piece the scenario together. However, all he could get were snippets of feelings that made no sense when put together: anxiety, affection and _sadness_. He couldn't take on _her perspective_ but perhaps more than that, _he was too afraid to try and ask, _knowing that it might not be what he wants to hear.

"No don't worry. Stay in bed. I've already called my fathers they should be here any minute."

Silence descends and they're left standing awkwardly in the dark. They're both making promises in their minds that they don't know if they can live up to. Rachel leans into Finn. In the proximity, it felt like everything could be all right. He felt safe. Her heart, it seemed was the only flight risk, as it called up disastrous and guilty reflections.

Beeep!

The alert to Rachel's mobile sounds loudly and she reluctantly takes a step back. When she looks up again, she almost afraid of what her voice might reveal, because she wasn't even close to understanding her current distress, herself.

"… I guess that's them. Goodnight Finn."

Rachel turns around on her heel. She's stopped by a whisper. It's the softest Finn has ever spoken to her, as all his protests wither away.

"Rach, wait."

With her hand on the doorknob, the singer stops. She tries to ignore the pain in her chest as her brain makes last chance attempts to dissect the night.

"I love you..."

From his position, Finn head is bowed and his fists are clenched nervously. For some reason, he worried that this time he might not get an answer. Rachel closes her eyes as tears slide down her face. She thinks that at least this confession, these _four words_ still meant more than just an automated response.

"I love you too."

They stare at each other. Taking a last glance of the bedroom, Rachel just wants to crawl into a ball and cry, because even the quiet _feels like a lie_. And as she pushes her way past that bedroom door, the thought that lingers in her mind isn't the picture of her boyfriend; adorably mussed and confused from sleep. _No_. Instead, the brief moments that remain are Quinn's words and expressions as she tried so hard _to be convincing_, _to be honest and to care for Rachel like a kind-of friend should…_

Again, the pressure builds behind the singer's eyes, because _maybe, just maybe, that meant something too. _


	6. Chapter 6 - On My Way

**-**_**Senior Year - Week: On My Way**_

"Quinn!"

Rachel's voice is breathless, hurried and pleading as she attempts to catch up to a departing figure. Despite the clumsy and complicated nature of the wedding dress, her determination carries her most of the way. If she reaches out, she thinks that she can _just_ grasp the tail ends of the swishing pink taffeta of the bridesmaid dress.

"Quinn!"

No response. Not even a pause. During the course, Rachel's mind ponders over a great many things.

The first of which, was how much it hurt to see Quinn all dressed up to be a friend, a support and a _bridesmaid_, only to walk way with sad disappointed eyes and a subdued answer of _'it's ok, I won't.' _The idea that, the girl, who had always been so attached to the idea of self preservation, was the one to _speak out _and _against_ the accepting tide of the group _stayed in the foreground_. Not for the first time, questions arose about Rachel's position on Quinn's short list of things and people that she cared about. The brunette bites her bottom lip. Sometimes, she wonders if she's _worthy_...

The second thought was how the blonde spoke _to_ and_ about her._ In Rachel's life, she had experienced so much indulgence, reproach and faked bouts of camaraderie. Often, to the point where it just bounced straight off when circumstances were cruel. These days, the singer barely flinches when a snide comment slips from Santana's lips or when Sugar says something _because of: sorry, Asperger's. _So, it comes as a shock and a momentary disturbance of composure, when Rachel _finally_ registers the difference in Quinn. In their interactions, the blonde was surprisingly patient, only mildly harsh _and almost always honest. _Quinn spoke as if Rachel was somebody great, maybe even _the brightest star amongst them all... _However perhaps most important, was that the blonde described Rachel as a girl who could do so much better than _any suitor in this town_; including_ Finn Hudson, _and even_ Quinn Fabray_,_ if the blonde was ever put in the running._

The third and last, was more a feeling of deja vu. It was the understanding that in every meeting, now and forever, Rachel would always be trying to chase Quinn down to steal a glimpse into hazel eyes. _It seemed so automatic in retrospect. _The scene would begin with calm, only to be interrupted by a trigger of sorts. Conflict and storm would command the blonde's expressions, warning of a tendency to run and leave disaster in its wake. And as Rachel is left staring at the product of a determined pace and tense posturing, there'd be a pull in her gut. Before she can comprehend, she'd find herself standing, moving and _following. _Rachel thinks that she would like to have one less complicated goodbye.

"Quinn, wait!"

This time, the singer's hands extend to grasp the blonde's wrist, halting further movement. Quinn stands still, refusing to turn around. Her eyes are dull. Her commitment to stop this runaway train waning and she's so _tired_. She doesn't want this burden. After all this time, she _still_ hates being ignored and for a second, the thought crosses her mind that _there's no sense in caring_. Nothing positive ever came out of being invested, vulnerable and the voice of reason.

"Quinn..._please_ look at me."

If ever, there was a good enough counter-argument to such depressive thoughts, the answer laid with Rachel Berry. The singer was evidence of how dreams and persistent kindness could triumph over past lapses in judgment and transgressions. It lightened the load on Quinn's shoulders and convinced her to hope. So, maybe this is her thank you because Quinn softened her gaze and moved to face Rachel. She manages to revert back to person she seems to effortlessly be when they're alone, in darkened classrooms, deserted hallways and prom night bathrooms.

"I can't be your bridesmaid Rachel."

The whispered statement catches them both unawares. It wasn't supposed to see the light of day. It wasn't meant to sound so..._emotion-ridden. _Quinn clenches her jaw and shuts her eyes tightly. With deep breaths through her nose, _she swears that she's in control. _Rachel finds her mouth opening but no sounds make it out. Her left hand is shaking, still worriedly attached to Quinn's wrist and neither girl knows what happens next. They've done this so many times, _almost opening the door to a sensitive topic or revealing a little too much. _In the past, they've so easily managed to pull back because after all, there were more noteworthy things to be concerned about: _popularity, boys and teenage inadequacies_. It's just getting harder now. It just that when they both wear that frantic look in their eyes, there's less of a justification to avoid_ the fearful unknown. _

"I can't stand there and watch you throw your life away."

Quinn's voice is stronger as she reiterates a point that she's made a dozen times since the engagement news was first broken. The words give them a direction and reinstate the boundaries that were often blurred. Rachel finds herself slightly relieved as she answers preparedly. This line of questioning she could handle.

"But I'm not."

Hazel eyes roll at the predictable response and Rachel can't help but feel a little angry on Finn's behalf. It was true that the boy had flaws however Quinn's utter dismissal seemed a little disproportionate. After all, the blonde had dated the tall footballer. There must have been some trait or part of his character that she had deemed worth choosing, and _loving_.

"Quinn why can't you see that marrying Finn isn't a _bad thing_."

The desperate break in Rachel's tone causes a sigh to escape the blonde. Delicate shoulders drop and all pretenses of indifference and strength were abandoned. Using her free hand, Quinn rubs the tension from her neck. Her eyes cloud and she wonders why she hasn't shaken Rachel's touch away. She tries to scientifically reason out the way her senses come alive at the point of contact. _Wait a moment, was the singer's thumb drawing circles on the inside of her wrist?_

Focus. Rachel. Finn. Wedding.

Gradually and reluctantly Quinn felt reality return. She clears her voice, about to correct up the misunderstanding. It wasn't that her opinion of Finn was low. In fact, it was quite the opposite. Quinn had immense respect for the boy that who had never wanted the leadership position but nevertheless stepped up to the plate. She loved that the reason why she had caught him secretly tripping over his limbs practicing routines and reading books about previous glee clubs, was because he didn't want to let his friends down. He wanted to be someone that you could be proud of. And Quinn was, you know, proud of him.

However, the image changes when it's about _Rachel and Finn, together_. Perhaps, the problem had more to do with the esteem to which Quinn held Rachel. The blonde shakes her head to herself. She thinks that a solution won't be coming anytime soon. Before she manages to say anything, Rachel interjects. The singer holds Quinn's gaze and squeezes their connected limbs.

"I know it's hard for you to believe based on your experiences but love is _overarching_. When all else fails in life, love is something that will keep you afloat, it'll keep you strong."

A pause. There's something in Rachel's voice that is so compelling in its intensity. Quinn finds herself wavering and waiting on the next sentence. Noticing the slight change, Rachel smiles brilliantly. She thinks that she's finally getting through as she continues enthusiastically. Years later, she would realise that, in this moment, she displayed more passion for the topic than the boy behind it.

"When you find that person, it'll stop you from feeling lonely."

Rachel stared hopefully at Quinn. For a second, the blonde is simply blank as the words take time to orientate themselves in her mind. Then, it's simply disillusioning as she chuckles hollowly. A pervasive sense of sadness enters her eyes and she doesn't have the coherence to sensor the quietly guarded thought from her lips.

"- _or when you find that person, all you will ever feel, is lonely…"_

"What?"

Rachel tilts her head confusedly. She tries not to flinch at the bitterness falling in the space in between. She's taken aback when her grip is finally shaken off in an angry haste. Quinn seems to come alive. Fire drives the blonde's actions, making every word more deliberate and every thought more confident. Rachel tries to forget how unbelievably pretty the taller girl is_. _It's only ever heightened when Quinn is furious. Blonde strands land haphazardly across crafted cheekbones and truths cause the lines to smooth away.

"Where do you get off, Rachel?"

"I don't understand."

Bewildered, Rachel takes a step back. However, perhaps there's a law in physics that refutes the idea of distance between the two girls because Quinn simply moves _closer_. She looks down past her lashes and her voice is thick.

"You spend the last few years opening me up, getting under my skin and trying your damnedest to make me care…"

Brown eyes widen. Rachel swallows slowly and she can't help but be rapt with attention. There's something in the air that sends electricity down their spines and deep down, it's as if they know that this opportunity will only come once. With the factors in their lives, this was as open as they dared to get. Rachel had Finn. And Quinn...well, the blonde had her current mistrust, regret and demented soul to contend with. She looks away for a moment, steeling herself before the plunge, the dive into a new avenue of their friendship.

"Well guess what? Thanks to you, I do ok?!"

Every muscle is powerful and taut with the admission. Rachel finds her gaze tracing curves and definitions down a graceful neck. In the absence of an ability to properly process the conversation, the anatomical names come to mind: _sternocleidomastoid, scalene and carotid arteries. _Rachel wonders just how fast and hard the blood was pumping; the visual evidence of a spirited heart. There were rare times, when Rachel would entertain the notion of what and who they would be, _if only they had more than one chance to get things right in life. _And, in the end the saddest part might just be that the singer couldn't promise that she would stay with _her current one_. She might not choose Finn.

Quinn's quieter tones drag the singer back to the present. The blonde gestures resignedly towards Rachel as a hint of affection crosses her features.

"I give, surrender, _whatever_. I'll admit that I care about you."

Hazel eyes bore into brown and Rachel tried to tame her emotions. It's an endeavor that she's not entirely sure she succeeds in. She can barely breathe. She thinks that despite sending Sunshine to a crack house and sabotaging Sandy's position as the freshman year glee coach, that Rachel is only losing her convictions _now_. For the first time, she needs Quinn to be _a little less_. She needs the blonde to give her a reason not to feel _this_, whatever it was. Rachel needs someone to remind her about the difference between heroes, princes and villains, because under the grace of the exchanged words she had very little resistance.

Seeing the singer's anxiety, Quinn sighs. She turns and moves away to look out of a window. They're on the 2nd level of the department store. Somehow it's just _nice_, as they take a break and give their bodies a chance to catch up to racing minds. People are milling about on the streets, immersed in their day-to day life. The blonde finds comfort in the notion they might not actually be alone in this. She holds onto the idea that maybe a building down the road, there might another two friends trying to keep each other from a mistake. Quinn's not really there when the next sentence makes it out. Still, it didn't take anything away because at this point she has no walls. Her tones will flutter and fluctuate with her feelings. And, it's all that matters.

"Rachel, I want you to get to Broadway. In fact, a part of me knows you will..."

Rachel blushes under the force of the steadfast belief and it's not that she has little faith in herself but it's is _different_ coming from a trusted friend. It feels real. They share a small smile. Quinn huffs lightly, as she leans against the windowsill to look fully at the singer. The blonde has always imagined what it would be like if Rachel could be a little less nervous in her presence. Quinn often wonders if it would really be better that way, as she continues her thoughts.

"I want you to win all those Tonys, not because you need the validation but because someone who is _so brilliant _deserves tangible proof-evidence that _they are_: a legacy for future generations to come..."

The scene is strange, with sunlight streaming in from the side and _Rachel Berry _standing a short stretch away in a _wedding dress_. In their minds, perhaps there's a song that plays, a piece of music that means something to the both of them: _I feel pretty, so unpretty…._

Quinn takes a few steps towards Rachel. She leans into the singer's space and takes several breaths in sync, hoping to take the sting out of her next comment. It's funny how the lack of distance doesn't bother them as much as it should. It's _alarming_ how they don't know it, _but they're still moving closer._ Their foreheads nearly touch and Quinn's speaks with so much weight, as if she's thought about this over _years_ and not just minutes.

"But most importantly, I want you to finally stop being _such a child_ about love and romance."

With a soft touch to Rachel's jaw, their time is over. Their wayward and obscure feelings are placed back into their respective compartments. Quinn is once again so out of reach and Rachel has moisture in her eyes. She doesn't understand why every interaction with Quinn had to seem so tragic as they were always losing something. The blonde was leaving behind the version of Rachel that had been on the forefront of her mind; the friend, conversationalist and the girl that she wanted save. She swears that this is the _last time _as one more unexpected effort is made.

"Look. You love Finn."

A stop.

"Fine."

Quinn doesn't wait for Rachel's affirmation. It was a fact that they both knew, like how the sky was blue. However, the odd thing was that the sky wasn't always blue: _sometimes it's grey, sometimes it's a mixture of fiery orange and royal purple, and other times, it's hard to attribute any learned category of colour. _

"You can envision the rest of your lives together with little Hudson-Berrys..."

A second stop. Quinn waves away the image, as she voices an acceptance for the inevitable.

"I get it."

Rachel has no idea why each confirmation hurt so much like a physical blow. Was it the stiff countenance? Or, was it the sense of giving up that blanketed the room? She didn't _have_ the answers. She's not sure if she even wants them, but she can't quite force her attention away. She can't quite _ignore Quinn. _

"But, those aren't good enough reasons to go through with this. To get married at _our age_."

Maybe Quinn can't quite disregard Rachel either, because the singer's distress still meant _something_ as the blonde tried to explain. She lets the coldness drain away easily.

"Rachel, it's not that you can't do both: career and family, but, _it'll certainly make things harder_."

Quinn hopes her lack of scheming translates though her presentation because the blonde thinks that she doesn't have anything more to offer. This was her limit. This was the best she could manage for now, praying that Rachel never has to endure the pain of missed opportunities. Now, maybe a happier and less damaged person could be _better_ and _say more_. In fact, Sam, Mike and even Mercedes probably could. However, this was _their friendship_ for a lack of a better description and Quinn was exhausted from all the times she run away in the past. Maybe it could be different with Rachel. With whom, every now and then, Quinn could let go enough to feel the need to endure and treasure conversations about best-kept secrets. Maybe the singer could be the one to remove the threats of trusting.

So, Quinn finishes an earlier statement.

"For every one person who succeeds in theater so many others must fail."

It's a truth that Rachel and Kurt would both like to forget. With their bright eyes and over-prepared NYADA applications, they want to believe that they're _the special ones_. Quinn watches the singer's face fall. She finds herself rushing to repeat an old opinion.

"_You're the brightest star around here Rachel."_

Rachel looks up, trying to make out objects, faces and shapes from a rapidly blurring vision. She's always crying around Quinn. She needs to learn how to stop. An elegant finger catches the tear that slips down her cheek. The touch is cautious, kind and warm. It doesn't feel foreign. On the other hand, Quinn is always swayed by the rawness of the singer's emotions. She needs to learn how to stop too. Hazel eyes search browns, waiting for the moment when the awkwardness begins to settle in. It happens later and later these days, and the girls wonder if these lessons will ever be learnt.

"Don't make a reckless decision because you think that marrying Finn_ proves something about love_."

There's enough accuracy to the statement to cause Rachel to look ashamed. She's reminded of the night of her first time. Marriage, it was a valued covenant. She had been so surprised when Finn popped the question. She had needed time, to consult others, _to talk to Quinn_ because at the time her answer couldn't be what the boy wanted. Maybe there was a very good _reason_ why. After all, it hadn't made _sense_ to her cost benefit analysis. It hadn't _fit in_ with her plans. The only time it seemed to be the right thing was when the footballer was nearby and love shined through both their eyes.

Surprising even herself, Quinn reaches out to brush a long dark strand behind Rachel's ear. She clears her throat and speaks seriously.

"Don't hide behind this marriage, _just because_ you're afraid of braving New York alone."

_Alone_. _Lonely._ Both were scary thoughts weren't they? Rachel finds herself stuttering. She wants the boy around. She wants to be able to kiss him everyday for the indefinite future. She wants to return from a hard dance class and say _honey I'm home._ But, _he_ was so lost and unsure of himself. He was so _depressed_. He was thinking about joining _the army. _The ring had been their solution, a way to stay together and renew their worth, even if it was simply in each other's eyes. Now, away from the gravity of Finn, the glee club and family; the situation seemed flawed. It didn't feel like something that Rachel would do. It didn't seem anything like the girl that Quinn thought she knew.

"Please...Don't be a coward because that was something you never were in my eyes."

There's a silence as the meaning sinks in. Rachel has no rebuttals or logical arguments to make her case. She looks at the girl that she's always admired. _Quinn's right_. However, that conclusion is only obvious when they're talking_ like this_. Rachel knows that there'll be so many other considerations once everyone else gets incorporated into the picture. No one: not her fathers, her teachers nor even Quinn could convince her that a _decision could ever be solely made from the input of one person. _Rachel figures that relationships didn't really work like that.

So in the end, she returns to what she knows is true in the vast company of others.

"I love him. He's the one. Think about it Quinn. Please, think about coming. I don't think I want to go through this without you."

The blonde shakes her head to herself. She masks her disagreement, knowing that at this point it would serve no purpose except to make the shorter girl feel worse. So, she takes a slow breath, before walking away completely. Rachel was going to marry Finn Hudson. _She really did wish them luck._

"Therein lies the problem Rachel. This is what you think you want, my not being there shouldn't make a difference."

/

_**Minutes Before The Wedding**_

"Do you, Finn Hudson, take Rachel Barbra Berry to be your lawfully wedded wife?"

Finn grins at the words. He had heard them spoken so many times in movies and TV shows, but it sounded different in real life. The gravity of the situation made it to mind. He never understood why the faces of the actors and actresses seemed so important and overwhelmingly ecstatic as the camera panned and zoomed in. But, _he does now. _In fact, the tall boy figured that that's what his features are showing as he holds onto Rachel's hands. Despite the resistance it took in getting here, it had all been worth it. He was standing with the girl he loved; ready to pledge everything; love, life and a stable future together.

"I do."

He's rewarded with the glittering happiness in the singer's gaze. He convinces himself that it's ok that the feeling seems a little transient at the current time. It's all right as the brightness fades in and out of warm brown eyes. It was probably just because the situation wasn't ideal. It was probably just the reaction to Kurt and their parent's lack of approval, _and Quinn's absence_. Finn nods to himself. Actually, it probably had more to do with the latter. He often tried to understand the how or when's of the situation, but his fiancé and his ex-girlfriend had managed to overcome their history to become closer and help each other grow from who they used to be. He's not blind to the changes. And as strange as it was, he couldn't even consider it a bad thing; not when it made Rachel _brave_ and not when it taught Quinn to be _open_. Finn thought that being out of the loop occasionally was a small concession.

The mustached stout judge with his rosy cheeks turned to the short brunette. Despite the tensions of the room, he had been utterly warmed but the affection flowing between the young couple when he had first met them. He thought that the boy had found the person who would always love him as he was, but for whom, he'd strive for better. And the talented young girl had chosen the support that wouldn't waver, stray or give her a reason to be worried. She'd never abandon him.

So with nothing but well wishes, the man continues.

"Do you, Rachel Berry take Finn Hudson to be your lawfully wedded husband?"

_Brrrrrrring!_

The ringing from a mobile phone interrupts the proceedings, echoing against the stone walls. All eyes would scatter and drift in an attempt to identify the origin the noise. There's only one exception. Rachel. The singer is the only one who looks up to the door, hoping to see something, _someone_ she can't yet admit to. And she wished she had a better reason _why_ other than a niggling sensation at the back of her neck. So, she tells herself that the sound was from Quinn's blackberry as the blonde finally made it to the wedding _just in time. _

_But, _it's not…

There's no collection blonde hair that flies gracefully to the end of the bridesmaid line, no solemn smile or supportive tilt of the head. There's no unexpected beauty in the moment as Santana, a tad sheepish, mouths an embarrassed apology to everyone in the room. The Latina is about to ignore the call when she recognizes the number. Offhandedly she wonders what was so important that her dad would call her from the hospital's line. Did he leave is phone in an examination room again?

Either way, it's a call she can't miss. So, she looks up to Finn and Rachel, pleading for understanding as she heads for the door one finger on the green answer button. The footballer for the most part looks concerned but reassuring as he motions for her to take her time. He's just thankful that she came anyway without her bag of sarcastic and innate commentary. It meant a lot. As Santana's gaze lands on Rachel, she's less sure about what she sees, so much so that she actually pauses. The Latina temporarily ignores the busy voice on the other end of the line. Instead, she tries to figure out why Rachel appears so torn apart and relieved for the disturbance. She tries to find reasons why Rachel was using the time as an opportunity to check her message banks, rather than to cry screeching bloody murder for the ruining of her romantic fairytale.

Santana comes to the conclusion a second before her hearing catches snippets of a distressing conversation through the static filled connection. _Quinn_. A spike of adrenaline travels her system and a sense of dread overtakes her mind. Santana forgets where she is and who she is with, as the anxious question is muttered loudly.

"I'm sorry what?"

The people in the room all look to each other in confusion. Mercedes raises her eyebrows. Brittany doesn't understand why Santana didn't put the call on speaker; _the elves were probably eavesdropping anyway. _And, Tina can't help gesture to the Latina to go outside into the hallway. A few of them, the parents, are relieved. They loosen their ties and massage their feet thinking that this would give them more time to figure out a way out for their children other than _to fake an epileptic fit…_

"Is this a prank?"

There's a sharp fury in Santana's tone that wakes everyone up. Rachel notices the small things like how the Latina's eyes were narrowed in a sense of disbelief and fists were tightened to the point of white. Her next question causes Rachel's heart to stop. It causes Rachel's vision to swim. And though the singer still didn't know who the caller was, every little aspect of Santana's rapid loss of attitude was perhaps just as _terrifying. _

"Quinn. As in Lucy Q. Fabray?"

Santana bellows into the phone. The natural use of the blonde's full name signaled awareness, a deeper friendship and a longer history than what was previously elaborated on. Rachel finds herself briefly wondering about the relationship between the two girls. It was odd. The singer could see the possibility of soul mates in Santana and Brittany. They cared about each other without ever needing to think to hard. If one laughed so would the other eventually. There was so much trust and affection, to the point that Rachel thought that if they ever broke up, they'd somehow still end up holding hands in the same retirement home by the age of eighty. Then, there was Santana and Quinn. Their exchanges were strict, perplexing and so carefully planned out, _still underscored by a sense of reverence and respect_. They shoved each other to the ground like childhood bullies only to turn around and offer a hand up _like sandbox friends_. Maybe friendship wasn't the right word because it was so much more. The world probably just notices _how much_ when their supposed tough-as-nails friend breaks apart.

"What accident?"

A cold goes down everyone's spine. Santana's spare hand blindly reaches out to the wooden door, looking for something to grasp and she loses her ability to stand. Tears stream down her cheeks as she fights to breath and speak clearly. She had never been a graceful crier. She wasn't the type of girl to look pretty doing so as hiccups racked her body and mascara smudged across her face. There are a few gasps as Kurt and a few others realise that they've never seen the girl cry like this before. Santana's dark eyes whip up at the noise, snarling and baring her teeth. To fucking bad, she didn't give a shit what the glee club thought at this point in time. She just needed answers.

"Is she going to be ok?"

Rachel holds her breath as warm droplets making their way down her own cheeks. She's no longer standing at the altar but somewhere halfway between Finn and Santana, unable to make a proper choice. The judge watches sympathetically. He's still not entirely sure about the dynamic of the group, but this scene has given him a second chance to understand. The young bride's agony was palpable and second only to the distraught girl with the phone. She, who had seemed a little uncertain about her marriage to the boy, was so unbelievably secure in her concern for this Quinn person. And, in being able to worry only one single thing, the judge thinks that Rachel actually herself, shedding the internal attempts at convincing and the overly bright smile. He thinks that her true feelings and attention to the boy becomes clearer.

Coming out of his thoughts, the man manages to catch the end of the phone call.

"Yeah I'll be down in a sec. I know her mother and I'll try to contact her."

The Latina looks around for her things as she hisses down the phone.

"She better be fine when I gets there!"

With that, the phone is just a useless object in her hand, as she continues to glare in all directions of the room. She has her lips pressed into a line, determined just to find her belonging and leave without being cruel to her friends. She wasn't in the right mind. She had to get to Quinn. She would tear anyone apart who even thought about standing in her way.

"Santana what's going on?"

Rachel is the first to summon the courage to ask. However, if the singer was honest it had nothing to do with that. No, instead it was alarm and the frightening image of a lifeless Quinn confined hospital bed that powered her actions. Santana, for the most part has no care for the internal debates and ramblings of one Rachel Berry. She finds herself bristling at the question because she couldn't respond, as in, the words swirled through her head but none seemed plausible.

"I have to go."

"_An accident?"_

Rachel's voice breaks in apprehension as her eyes follows the Latina's jerky movements. Santana ceases all movement. She looks up for a second and sees everyone's faces filled with confusion, unease and a touch of horror. Bile rose up in her throat and for once, she just wished that blind honesty wasn't her thing. She wished that saying it out loud wouldn't make it feel real. So instead, other thoughts erupt from her throat. She could feel herself fracturing as she began to toss jackets and purses across the room.

"Where are my keys? Where are my fucking keys?"

Most of her friends take a step back. However, Puck and Brittany stand their ground. They watch the Latina sadly, both wrestling with their own emotions but still so unwilling to show any outward signs that could be misconstrued as a withdrawal of support. This wasn't the first time Santana had lost it. This was simply the first time she did over the _possibility of losing Quinn. _As he kept Brittany back from a spiraling Latina, Puck imagined that it was probably the fact that it was Quinn, which was causing the most damage; _someone that they had deemed so invincible._

"Is she going to be ok?"

In a haze, Rachel finds herself asking again. She should really stop; it obviously wasn't getting her anywhere, only to make the Latina seem more murderous. The singer simply waits. She'd stand hours into the night if it meant that she's get a scrap of new about her Quinn's welfare.

"_Goddamn it. Finally!"_

The victorious statement woke everyone up a second later. Santana shakily takes out the keys to her SUV and creates a mental to-do list. She had to be strong. She had to smart. She had to be the _kind of intelligent_ that Quinn had always tried to convince her to showcase _in high school _andnot just reserved for future colleges.Santana would do this right. She would be the person that Quinn trusted, as her emergency contact. They had known each other a long time. They will be ribbing and bitching at each other even into their golden years if Santana had a part in the matter.

"Ok call Judy…."

She begins to punch digits into her phone, abruptly stopping before the end. Distantly, she recalls how long it took in the past to get in touch with the older Fabray. And Santana throws the device back into her purse in exchange for her keys again. Determination appears in her eyes as she shakes her head to herself.

"No, get there first."

The hospital was 15 minutes away. At least if she arrived there earlier it meant that it was one less second that Quinn had to spend alone. Even if Santana couldn't physically be in the operating room, she could be _in the same building_. She could be helpful. Remembering Quinn's avoidance of all things medical and sterile after the birth of Beth, Santana makes a note grab some spare clothes from home for her friend. And as she almost makes it out the courtroom door, another thought pierces her hectic mind. Before she knows it, she's hastily pacing about, trying to search her memories.

"Crap. What was her medical insurance information again? Fuck."

Her hands reach for her head in a frustrated manner. If she was a lot more unstable and unconcerned about her appearance bald, she thinks that she'd be tearing at her hair. Instead, she finds herself moving so erratically that she nearly falls. The person who's the one to catch her surprises the Latina. Rachel Berry. The singer has her arm lightly around Santana's waist and a kind gaze. She reaches her upturned hand out.

"Give me the keys I'll drive. You're in no state of mind."

Maybe it was the fact that Rachel sounded composed and Santana wasn't anything close. Maybe it was the how Rachel appeared to have a plan in mind and wasn't about to waste time berating herself but Santana felt an inexplicable anger build inside. She felt unprepared and inadequate. So, she wipes her tears away and shakes her head roughly.

"No Rachel, you don't have to be there. She's _my_ best friend. _I'm_ her emergency contact. She needs _me_."

Santana doesn't know what she expects from her outburst but Rachel doesn't even flinch. She continues to look at the Latina with empathetic eyes and waits for the next attack. Later, the Latina will marvel how well the singer could play the role of friend if she was given a proper chance. Santana would wonder if that was why Quinn always hung around for the short girl, as if she had figured it out a long time ago.

"_I'm_ the one that needs to go."

The broken comment slips out. Rachel still has her hand extended. However this time as she speaks, she makes a decision to show Santana something that would always matter enough to break through nervous gestures, panicked ramblings and depressive wallowing. She was _honest, a little too much_.

"She's my friend, Santana. I care about her too … _more than you know…"_

The girls stop and stare. Santana sees hints of the feelings that had caught her off guard earlier, before the phone-call. Quinn was on Rachel's mind. Looking into the singer's eyes, Santana knew that it was the_ only thing_ keeping hope alive. The Latina sighs. She thinks about how the girls look at each other. They must have been born blind because they're still operating under the misguided notion that standing on the sidelines of each other lives was going to work. Well, with how stubborn they were, it probably _could; _just not well and not in a way where there wouldn't be any sleepless nights. Santana lets her gaze land on Finn. For a second, she actually feels sorry for the boy.

"Alright. Fine."

Rachel nods, smiling lightly at the small concession. She nods to the dancer to her left.

"Brittany, can you please make sure that she holds it together until we get to the hospital."

The dancer nods confidently as she gathers her girlfriend into her arms, murmuring reassurances and stories of happier times. Rachel is about to follow them out the room when a hesitant voice stops her.

"Rach?"

She closes her eyes and shakes her head.

"Finn, not now. I have to go. Quinn's hurt."

The football player rubbed his neck uncomfortably. He looks to his family and friends for instructions and ideas for how to proceed but they all only wear unsure faces. Despite their life experiences, the pain of someone close was always enough to turn the tables. It could turn anyone into a quibbling mess. Finn takes a slow look at the room. He takes in everyone all dressed up for the event. He acknowledges the judge, waiting with a marriage certificate in hand. He grips the wedding ring resting at the base of his pocket and finds himself saying softly.

"You don't even know how bad it is."

He regrets the words the moment he speaks them, able to do nothing as Rachel's posture crumples. She whirls around with feverish eyes as she almost loses all composure from her voice.

"I _don't_ care!"

Finn's apologetic as he takes a few steps forward to hold Rachel in his arms. He feels her tremble as tears drench the collar of his shirt. The football player simply tightens his embrace as the sobs transition into quiet whimpers. Her presses a kiss to the crown of her head and whispers.

"Please, breathe."

Rachel shakes her head at the calming tone. She pushes away and shakes her head.

"No. She got in to a _car accident_ Finn. I can't be here, doing this when she could be fighting for her life trying to get to our wedding!"

Her emotions rise again and Santana taps her foot impatiently. Though she knows that the couple has issues that they had to work out, it just wasn't important in the current time. It's one of the rare times that Santana agrees with Rachel, though she's sure that they have different reasons.

"Berry, lets go."

Rachel nods to the Latina. She turns to face Finn, reaching for his hands. She places a kiss on his cheek before looking into his eyes. He's the boy she loves. He's the boy Quinn chose once upon a time. He the boy who understands more than he says, as he nods benevolently and gazes at her back as she leaves.

"I'm going."

And as Finn stood with the numbness, he couldn't help but think back and agree with Mercedes and Tina's earlier worries. He really shouldn't have seen Rachel before the wedding.

..._It was bad luck..._

/


	7. Chapter 7 - Saturday Night Fever

**-**_**Senior Year - Week: Saturday Night Fever**_

"She didn't mean anything by it you know."

Quinn froze for a moment before lowering herself from the walking bars back into her wheelchair. Ignoring her physiotherapist, she rolled over to her bag and reached for her water bottle. It had been almost a month. She stops asking about why Rachel was even here. Quinn suspects that it comes from the brunette's strange need for to punish herself for the accident.

The blonde didn't blame Rachel.

In fact, she didn't have any feelings whatsoever anymore, _finally_ feeling the effects of running on empty. The only thing that still fazed her was these visits, where there wasn't any choice _but conversation_. Each time, she finds that they're inching closer and closer to the truth; nagging feelings that were still too convoluted to work through. Even so, in her present state, Quinn figured that she couldn't exactly run away. So she just slips the brakes on her wheels and looks up at the singer in a bored manner.

"Who?"

"Brittany."

Rachel fiddles with her fingers nervously. She's never sure what to do, whether she should just walk into the room and find a seat or continue to stand on the other side of the doorway, offering space and room to breathe. Quinn doesn't rush to welcome her either. But, then again, these days a barely detectable nod or a long gaze was the best she was going to get. Rachel thought that anything was better than nothing, and occasionally, during these _little talks_, it felt like the blonde cared enough to want to hold onto some parts of their friendship

"She was just trying to include you."

Quinn rolled her eyes. She wanted to laugh at the absurdity of the moment. Never in a million years would a freshman version of herself ever expect to be lectured on Brittany S. Pierce by Rachel Berry_. But hey, all in the name in good intentions and all..._ And, after the mishap of Brittany's Whitney performance, Quinn understood the concern, even if it was misplaced.

"I know."

Raising her eyebrow at the cryptic answer, Rachel waited. Quinn leant back in her chair, cataloging the distress in the singer's expressions. She wonders why the brunette bothers, _caring so much_. These visits did nothing but remind them of the confines and rules of their circumstances. There was nothing _special_ about Quinn anymore. The blonde gritted her teeth, she didn't have the best voice and now, she couldn't even dance to a number during glee club. All she could offer were these occasional pieces of insight into her past and other people. She couldn't fathom why Rachel sat and listened as if that was more than enough. She couldn't figure out the interest. _It couldn't just be about her..._

"I've known Brittany from the very first day I transferred here. But Rachel, you're wrong."

Quinn recounts wistfully. Her eyes are vacant as she goes over her first meeting with the dancer in her mind. It was Santana-mediated of course, but Brittany was the one that saw her over 150 meters away and tackled her to the grass in a running hug. She had barely gotten the words '_personal space'_ out before she realised that in doing so, she would be punishing to the energetic girl than anything else. Quinn had figured out early that Brittany had no desire to be willfully harsh.

"She didn't pull me into the dance to include me. It had nothing to do with that."

During the pause, Quinn bites her bottom lip. She can't help but appreciate the pattern of the light and shadows as they dance across bold distinct features: the nose, defined jaw and smooth tan expanse of skin. Her fingers twitch. She's torn in between a desire to touchand draw. It occurs to her that her sketchbook is in her bag. She could so easily have it in her hands, making confident lines and curves on paper. As Quinn discovered in their freshman year, there was no hesitance with Rachel. The brunette exuded such surety and tenacity that it translated to others. Quinn had never needed an eraser with the singer. Her tool had always been a pen _and she had never made any mistakes with Rachel's beauty_. The idea irks her and instead of following through, she distracts herself by answering the previously posed question.

"In that moment, it just slipped her mind that I was wheelchair bound. _Temporarily_, Brittany just forgot what that means, my limitations because walking, dancing and moving; it's like _air_ to her."

Brown eyes widen. Like some others, Rachel has a hard time operating on the same wavelength as Brittany. _They were so different._ The dancer belonged to a fantasy world that everyone else had long since been expelled from. Their younger selves so thoughtlessly traded away their memberships in a mistaken awe for maturity. Now, Brittany was perhaps the only one who could be so unburdened and yet still quietly knowledgeable. It was rare, but the dancer would stop her activities and grin light-heartedly, whenever Rachel found herself barely coherent in the gravity and wake of Quinn's presence. Brittany's gaze would soften into a deep sadness when Quinn would sit a little more hunched into her chair, too prepared to forget about what happiness and family felt like.

"She lives it, breathes it and it makes her feel alive."

The statement lingers. The blonde spoke with such warmth and regard. And for a moment, Rachel wondered what it meant that Quinn Fabray understood so much about Brittany S. Pierce. It didn't make sense, the tenuous connection between the jaded and the perpetually optimistic. Except perhaps, that one of them must've been hiding, so afraid to give into whom they truly were. The singer hopes that it's Quinn. She crosses her fingers to the concept that _possibly_ the blonde wasn't as cold and despondent as her frown lines let on, because it certainly felt like it during _their interactions._

_Like now… _

As Quinn glanced up and rolled herself a small distance away from the visitors' chairs, Rachel finally felt _welcome_. As the blonde became seemingly exasperated by the singer's hesitance and surprise, Rachel felt like a trusted friend and companion. She felt like someone that didn't have to be guarded against. So, she moves. The singer walks in and sits down. When she's settled, Quinn would look away. The blonde would be suspended by indecision before returning to the present. Hazel eyes flash with a last burst of anger as it all gradually drained away. With alarm bells ringing, Rachel finds herself reaching out for Quinn's hand. Their skin makes contact, but instead of the usual jump or stubborn spark, for the first time in a while Quinn is unaffected. She glares at the positioning their joined limbs, unable to punch through the dark thoughts to summon an emotion. Rachel couldn't help but wonder if the accident had stolen more than just Quinn's ability to move her lower limbs.

"It's harder for her. Brittany probably hurts just a little more than the rest of you even if she doesn't show it... at the idea that _I might not be able to do the same anymore..."_

There it was, the other shoe. It was the flip side to the perfectly worn mask of composure during the blonde's first day back. Rachel remembered the genuine affection in the hug as Quinn took away the guilt. During every night after, Rachel found herself praying for the goals and dreams of being able to walk and dance at nationals. She swore she'd do anything to make it true. As much as Rachel would like to say that she was prepared to deal with Quinn's inevitable depression and spiral, the singer really wasn't. The fact that they had spent more time together now, than with anyone else, _including Finn, _didn't equip Rachel further. She wished it did, because then maybe there wouldn't be the crushing pain as Quinn's surrender washed over her. Tears built up and Rachel clenched her fists. She shook her head in a refusal to accept the current scene.

"_Don't say that."_

Quinn raised her eyebrows dryly. It was a small thing, but at least she had retained the ability to be surprised by the fierceness in singer's tone. It caused her to once again, stare longingly at the walking bars. She felt a short-lived need to live up to the Rachel's standards, to maybe show the shorter girl that there were still some things_ worth believing in and trying for_. Things like: Broadway _without_ the anchor of a boy who hadn't discovered himself yet, or the friendship of a girl who didn't even have a ticket for her own amazing life anymore. Quinn couldn't imagine the pitying looks as she rolled down the halls of Yale. She couldn't even really stomach it now. Looking into expressive brown eyes, she bowed her head. She felt the squeeze of her hand and Quinn considered that if they had had this conversation earlier that maybe Rachel Barbra Berry could have saved her.

Now, all she had was misplaced anger and indignation. A harsh laughter erupts and Quinn thinks that_ karma's a bitch_ and that the universe is hardly fair. After all, she's been paying for her mistakes _since freshman year_. She wonders when her sentence will finally be done and whether there was any point in waiting. She'd bet everything in her trust fund that that _even phoenixes got tired_. There had to be more to life than just cuts, bruises and a painfully scarred soul from a series of resurrections.

_She'd rather not taste joy at all_, if it meant that the rug was just going to continually be pulled from underneath her feet. _She'd really rather not have Rachel care about her_, if she was sure that being around each other was simply going to be a cauldron mixture of loathing, accountability and barely concealed devotion.

"Why? You think if it isn't said out loud, it won't still be true?"

The sarcasm and mockery drips from her tone as she holds the singer's gaze. Rachel stiffens at the change. She drops her hand from Quinn's, missing the brief wince that crossed elegant features. Instead, she walks to the other side of the room and whirled around, hoping that distance was enough to stop her need to shake some sense into her friend.

"What's gotten into you? What happened to going to walk by Nationals?"

The mention of the competition seemed to distract Quinn from her reverie as some sense of regret enters her eyes. She remembered the cheers, claps and support from the group after her determined declaration. Brittany and Mike had offered their services to help her cram learn the choreography the moment she could stand. Puck and Santana became her self-proclaimed coaches on how to rehabilitate her _badass swagger. _It was sweet. It had meant something at the time. However, it's now months later without any real progress. She could tell by the presentation of her physical therapist. Quinn snickered. She thought that the health professional needed a lot more practice on hiding his thoughts, if he planned on continuing his work with Sue Sylvester's little soldiers. Even without medical tests, Quinn could feel her muscles wasting. It was only a matter of time.

Rachel didn't need to be here to witness that deterioration. Quinn didn't want her to be, not with that inflated sense for responsibility. So, she does her best to be brutally honest. Maybe she could still be callous enough to send the diva packing, running towards New York City _and away from her._

"It was nothing. Just talk. I guess it hadn't hit me yet. I guess... I was thinking that dreams could run on hope and blind determination."

"Stop it."

Rachel's protest is whispered. Somehow it still manages to make its way to the blonde's ear. Quinn wished that she wasn't listening or so tethered to their shared moments. In fact, she wished that she were stronger, more cautious with her emotions and _not_ hanging on the singer's every word.

"No. I'm never going to walk again Rachel."

The shorter girl trembles, taking in deeps breathes. When she looks up, her eyes glisten under the fluorescent hospital lighting. The room is mostly dark. Quinn supposes that most of the people in assigned to the rehabilitation ward didn't really care to _see _what they had lost anyway. So, Rachel Berry was standing under the only source of brightness in the room and for a second, there was the illusion that she was so much more than _just a stubborn girl_. She took Quinn's breath away. She continued to do so as she cut their distance in half, speaking a little less furiously as the dam broke and emotions wandered into the open.

"Stop it…"

_Friendship, annoyance and the desire to be helpful_ were things that Quinn could handle. However, it was when the last feeling appeared that the blonde lost control. It was what they didn't dare to name and had never _used against each other_. They were defenseless as Rachel's fingers twitched at her sides and her gaze dropped down in yearning, from hazel eyes. Quinn looked away. Her voice was devoid of her usual poise as she hissed scathingly.

"Time to wake up from your schoolgirl fantasies and accept it."

It was probably that change that served as Rachel's trigger. Rational arguments and reality slipped from her mind, as she stalked single-mindedly to Quinn's location. The blonde felt the hairs at the back of her neck rise. In all their exchanges, this was the first time there was a predatory glint to brown eyes. Quinn felt trapped. She felt _hunted. _She wished she could say that she wasn't scared.The sense of being cornered only increased, as Rachel placed each of her hand onto the blonde's wheelchair's armrest, leaning over. They were _so close_ and the singer had the height advantage now.

"Shut up. Just, shut up!"

They're probably the only people who would rather deal with _willfully complicated situations_ rather than the simpler truth about their attachment. Normally, that'd be true but tonight they're running out of the energy and courage to make it work. Quinn was so sick of being the cause of Rachel's tears. The blonde could never quite bury the pain. And Rachel couldn't force herself to pretend like every word and action left unsaid and undone was really ever forgotten. It wasn't keeping their heads above the water anymore. So, Rachel is _real_. She's _here_ as she asks the hard questions.

"When did you change? This isn't you. This isn't Quinn Fabray."

Pretty features get twisted into a scowl. There's not much that Quinn can do these days in regards to movement but she manages to shifts and tilt her up to stare spitefully into Rachel's eyes. The fury and the passion of the moment, makes the small act seem larger than it was. And Rachel will admit that everything the blonde does gets magnified a little more intensely in her mind. She can't stop it, but she wished that she _could. _She just wanted stop the disaster that was about to unfold and leave Quinn's lips because Rachel could see it you know. She could discern the build up and storm in hazel eyes and the flash of rage.

"...You think you know me just because we're not at each other's throats anymore, _Rachel_?"

The taunting question fills Rachel's head. A sardonic voice in her mind sniggers. At least it was actually her first name these days. Tightening her grip on the wheelchair, she refuses to flinch. She ignores the wisps of blonde hair that lash continually against her face.

"You think you knew all about_ little fat Lucy_ who had to deal with the _parents_, the _perfect sister_ and the _jeering of her schoolmates_? The girl who had to change _everything_ so that others could see what she always knew; that she _could be_ lovable underneath all the layers…"

The bitterness came in waves after the sneer. Quinn shakes her head roughly, before finally taking her hand to push Rachel away. The singer almost falls to the ground by the force and the blonde makes a mental note to send Sue a fruit basket, thanking the irate women for the remnants of upper body strength. The blonde watches as Rachel gets over the shock and dusts herself off. In an almost concern, Quinn speaks gentler than she intends to.

"And now, you can add cripple onto that list, I mean, who could deal with that?"

A pause. The fire is gone from the both of them as they stare. It's too late to hide the fact that they're transfixed anyway. Quinn sighs and bites her bottom lip. The silence is an apology. Rachel finds that forgiveness has always come a little to easily for the girl in front of her though she doesn't mind. She closes her eyes as she barely catches the next question.

"...Who would even want to?"

By now, Quinn is looking blankly at some photos of success stories at the back of the room. Rachel takes the momentary distraction to step forwards and kneel in front of the blonde. Her hand slips up to pick the odd piece of lint from Quinn's hair, causing the other girl to face her again. If she's shocked by the proximity, she doesn't show it. Instead, she simply raises her hand to still Rachel's actions but still not quite letting go. The singer loses herself and murmurs through the fogginess of her mind.

"Finn _could.._."

The words caused the blonde to harden. She recalled how Finn had so adorably replaced the picture of cheerios Quinn when he had discovered Lucy. Unexpectedly, the boy thought that the chubby girl with glasses and braces was beautiful. In all the years that she had known him, that was a singular memory that she was thankful for. Quinn wonders why Rachel brings it up. It's history and with the brunette's possessiveness and insecurities it was _strange_. However, what Quinn didn't know was that Rachel was always so compromised during these talks. The singer hesitates before finishing her thought. She has a thick and shaking voice...

"And, _I do…_"

The breath caught in Quinn's throat. This was the first time that the truth was out in the open: no hinting, double speak or backtrack. They'd both like to say that this was how they had always wanted it to be, but it wasn't. There had simply been no other way to break through. Rachel finds her mouth opening and closing, unsure as whether to explain further. Whilst, Quinn held herself in check, knowing that it wasn't really an offer or a commitment. _It was just their version of a friendship. _

The blonde wouldn't force events based on a confession that held another purpose. Gathering herself again, Rachel isn't sure whether to be grateful or not. She didn't want what her words to be empty or just an attempt to placating. However, maybe there's a tiny change Quinn's impassive expression because it felt _all right_. It seemed like this wouldn't be forgotten; at least _not in the long run. _

Rachel has never had the chance to really discuss the blonde's past before Lima. For her, she didn't understand Zizes assumption that it was a big deal or that it somehow made Quinn suddenly _different_ or less trustworthy. Everyone was a sum of their pasts, but the tricky thing was that, _those experiences _were ever changing with each new mistake and decision made. Arguably, it was true that _Lucy_ had an effect, being the catalyst for a metamorphosis to an athletic and slightly controlling honor student. However, the other parts? The events that had led to every later communication between Quinn and Rachel and the glee club, had very little to do with Bellevue and that girl she used to be.

"Lucy, Quinn or _even the HBIC_; I don't care what you want to call yourself. They're all just time stamped labels in the end. So, if you want to sit there an list everything I don't know about you?"

Rachel waves the notions away, before digging her heels in.

"Alright, just tell me now and I'll bring in a chair."

The singer stands and looks at her friend with a powerful sense of certainty.

"I'll sit here with you until they have to close the whole building down; matching you every time with a thought, a characteristic or a secret _that I do know_…"

There's a silence. Rachel continues to wait. She's patient. She's not letting her eyes drift anywhere else and it's enough. It convinces that Quinn that she _won't actually leave. _And, that conclusion, causes _pain on a different level_, because, _they weren't meant for this_. Once again, Rachel had Finn. And Quinn had...well she had her limitations and doctor's appointments.

So even if this time, neither of them _physically_ walks away, Rachel still felt as if the blonde was disappearing further and further from reach. Apprehension caused her nerves to fray and she didn't know what else to say or do as she closed her eyes, _and Quinn's sobs filled the background._

/


	8. Chapter 8 - Prom-a-Saurus

_**Senior Year - Week: Prom-A-Saurus**_

Rachel sighed happily. She turned the plastic tiara around in her hands. She didn't know what she was doing in the girl's bathroom on the second floor when her boyfriend and her friends were waiting for her back on the dance-floor. In the joy of everything, she guessed she just needed a break, some time and space to convince herself that the night was real and that she wasn't going to wake up hung-over at her _anti-prom._

"Congratulations, Rachel."

A voice floats into the room. With a small smile, the singer doesn't bother to look up. _She recognises who it is anyways_. Maybe she was waiting for this, the opportunity to have _a moment with Quinn_ in what her mind has dubbed _their strange location_. She sees the corner of the wheelchair to her left. Finally, she looks up and responds jokingly.

"Shouldn't I be saying that to you?"

Quinn chuckles. The lightness of the sound causes both their spirits to lift. It had been a while. Rachel would admit that she had been a little terrified because after that night; they hadn't spoken. The singer because she thought that she wasn't wanted. And Quinn, because the blonde didn't have the apology or the gratitude that Rachel deserved. So, they had simply stayed apart, focused on their respective lives. It was enlightening, teaching them both to be independent and less affected by everything. The first few weeks were a shock to the system, fighting the propensity to revert back to old personalities.

_Still_, they had missed this. Quinn gestures fondly to the object in hand.

"Why? I'm not the one wearing the crown."

Laughter escapes them both. The blonde leans forward to take the shiny headpiece out of the singer's fingers and Rachel watches with rapt attention. She's barely sure what passes her lips as Quinn takes a deep breath before standing temporarily to place the crown on her head. Warmly, the blonde brushes her hand through soft dark curls in an attempt to orientate and frame the singer's face.

"No, but I'm 99% sure that you're the one who made this possible."

There's a challenge in the Rachel's eyes that dared Quinn to lie. The blonde only shrugs her shoulders mischievously.

"Not really. Santana has quite a soft spot for you, when she's not too busy rolling her eyes at the little things you do."

Quinn couldn't help but enjoy the flirtatious dance, reveling in the electric current that travelled through the air. The flippant statement keeps the conversation light, calm and unthreatening. Rachel shakes her head. Gradually, the upright position becomes difficult to maintain and Quinn falls back into her chair. It's all right though; she's prepared for it. What comes as a surprise is perhaps the warmth and strength of the singer's arms as she catches Quinn and helps her back into a seated position. Their faces hover a little to close before pulling away.

"Quinn…"

They've done serious and they've finally done _honest_.

In the end, it brought the girls closer, but not in any sort of way that would ever make it to public eyes or ears. With their timing, situation and responsibility to others, _it stays their little secret_. Quinn's heart _isn't_ destroyed in the wreckage and Rachel finds that her judgment remains _unhampered_. They're comfortable in the understanding that they had been smart enough to stop before it got too far. The girls _wanted_, but they didn't _need_. At least, not like how Rachel felt about Finn, holding on so tightly. And at least, not like how Quinn had lost her mind over Beth, buckling under missed opportunities as a mother.

So for Rachel and Quinn, it was a _not now. _However, as they continued to collide during pockets in time _like this one_; it certainly felt like that one day, they _might_. And in their minds, perhaps the future shifts to become a _not yet…_and then towards an_ eventually..._

"You stood. I mean you also sang beautifully, but you were _standing_."

The incredulous statement draws out a grin and a blush. Quinn finds herself nodding indulgently.

"You said that already."

In her enthusiasm, Rachel finds herself stumbling over her words. A nervous energy fills her body and she's not sure if pulling the blonde into a long embrace is the right thing to do or not. She can't help but think that, maybe Quinn wouldn't mind.

"When did this happen?"

The simple question is the only thing that comes out. Quinn eyes were sparkling, as if she knew what was really going through Rachel's mess of thoughts. The blonde smirked before launching into the tale. She glad that, despite the silent treatment and temporary rift, opening up to the brunette still felt _right_, that they could still hold onto the titles of _friend and confidante. _

"Well, this week was the first time I could stand and even walk a couple of steps without holding up to bars."

She's met with a brilliant smile. Rachel closes her eyes for a while just to picture it, that _first instant_ when Quinn realised that through her blood, sweat and tears; she was _standing. _She was the stronger one for continuingand not falling. Rachel really wished she could have been there to see it. The notion must shine and translate to her expression because Quinn tilts her head. The blonde's eyebrows furrow and she pushes past the natural mental block in her mind to confess.

"...I've been getting better since a good friend of mine pushed me to stop feeling sorry for myself."

There. She's proud of herself for saying it out loud. She remembered the days after the confrontation. Specifically, how she had verbally attacked her therapist to the point of tears and glared at anyone who even considered doing any _leg exercises. _Nobody could figure out why she would continually roll into the unit only to sit in a corner and stare spitefully at the bars. It was as if she wanted to forfeit but there was something, _someone more important _keeping her there. So when, one of the other patients, a teenage girl, limped over with a compassionate voice and brown doe eyes; Quinn didn't automatically snarl. She felt compelled to listen and in the process made a friend. The girl's name was Alex. She had been in rehab for nearly a year. Her single-mother and little brother in the family waiting area, they wouldn't skip even one session. It was an accident. An elderly woman hadn't seen them walking home as she turned around the bend. _Crash_, it was done in seconds. When asked why she was _still here_, Alex would shrug and simply say that she kept her promises. _She wouldn't disappoint those that believed in her. _

So maybe that was it. The weeks after, Quinn found herself replaying everything that Rachel had said that night, from the shock to the tired desperation. In the process, the blonde remembered who she was. She registered that she had a person that would be _always_ be waiting for the day where Quinn would just walk into the choir room, probably because Rachel was too damn headstrong to think otherwise.

"Joe?"

The teasing question drags the blonde back to the present. Quinn rubs her jaw embarrassedly. She supposed she could understand why Rachel would think so. Joe was a good guy. He could be what she had always wanted. And it would be so easy, to take the out given to her. She could agree and they wouldn't have touched on anything that caused their butterfly feelings to jump and flutter. However, maybe there's something in the way that Rachel would glance occasionally in awe from the wheelchair to Quinn sitting in it. It was something that said that this was perhaps a bigger deal than what they were both letting on.

In the end, the blonde just wanted the singer to comprehend that _she_ was the decisive factor.

"_You."_

Hazel eyes bore into browns. The thoughtful silence came with the knowledge that future friends and suitors could have Yale, France or some ridiculously expensive dinner reservation but it was the singer who had this. Rachel Berry was the _reason_ for Quinn's _salvation_ at the age of _seventeen_. So with caution to the wind, Rachel leaned over to embrace the other girl. And as she pulled back, she couldn't help how her lips grazed the Quinn's cheekbones. They close their eyes at the gasp.

"That's so wonderful Quinn. I am unbelievably happy for you."

Rachel sits down again on the bench. Quinn shakes her head to herself, willing her sense of equilibrium to return. When it does, she can feel the singer's charged gaze. She tries not to shudder. _They were getting too close again. _

"I made him keep it quiet because I wanted it to be real."

Seeing Rachel's confusion, Quinn explains.

"I wanted to be able to walk into the choir room and have you guys look up and see me... _The old me_."

Something changes in Rachel's features as the phrasing leaves the blonde's lips. Quinn is taken aback by the rebellion simmering behind the singer's eyes. Personal boundaries are once again foregone and Rachel's brain isn't really here. She rests her elbows on the armrests of Quinn's wheelchair and moves forward. Quinn is somehow sure that biology is taking over as her pupils dilate in the mirror in front. Rachel is practically on her lap, as a tan hand rests on her jaw. The touch is firm, yet tender and respectful. With an affirming focus, Rachel breathes out her rejection of Quinn's earlier statement.

"_No." _

Her thumb draws a few light circles on pale flawless skin. They're so sure that _friends don't do this_ but they're both people who have always been held to a different standard. Concessions and a wide berth were given because Rachel was talented beyond her years. Obedience and attitudes were modified because Quinn exuded a sense of authority regardless of her uniform. Somehow, it just didn't make sense that it wouldn't happen when they were interacting with each other.

Quinn finds her pulse speeding up. Rachel just smiles confidently as the words leave her lips.

"No._ Just you... _The_ real _you..._"_

The flattering statement and everything else about the scene, causes a heat to flare up. Quinn is about to look away for both their sakes when Rachel stops her. The singer clears her throat before finishing her thoughts.

"_And, she's still easily the prettiest girl I know...despite giving away the tiara."_

Rachel closes her eyes, pressing their heads together. She doesn't think she can handle the look in the blonde's eyes right now. She could say it a thousand times, but she'd still have trouble figuring out why the description couldn't be purely platonic, as if the ground would fall away from a lie. Quinn couldn't help but be captivated by the new dominant streak.It was charming; a sign of growth she supposed. She thinks about how Finn would fare with this new development. He had issues trying to keep up with _crazy Rachel _already. The blonde laughed. Somehow, she thinks that _confident Rachel_ might just be a little more terrifying.

Her fingers move up, finding Rachel's necklace. She traces the golden chain before reaching the name hanging on the center. With a faraway quality to her eyes, a husky warning leaves her mouth.

"_..._you should go back to the dance, Rachel."

This time a slight push accompanies the words. Quinn's hand lingers on Rachel's collarbone. It's not violent, just a reminder that their timer was close to sounding. Finn would be worried soon and Santana would give into her pathological sense of curiosity. Either way, they weren't going to be uninterrupted forever. Rachel slowly moved back. She appears to finally realise the boldness of her actions as an insistent shade of red emerges onto her cheeks. The episode is over and the haze that is associated with being around Quinn dissipates. She back to the girl everyone knows.

It feels like the loss of something.

Quinn shakes it off as she rolls to the door. On her way, she touches the singer's shoulder to say.

"Enjoy the rest of the night Rachel, _it's yours..."_

After a reluctant breath, she finishes quietly.

"Something to take with you when you become a Broadway star, I guess."

The sense of detachment causes Rachel to look up sharply. The anxiety only heightens when Quinn looks as if she's fighting to stay in control, trying to rid herself of an errant emotion.

"Quinn..."

They hold their positions; Quinn glances sadly at Rachel before pushing out the swinging doors. Her last words only encourage unintentional heartbreak.

"_Just don't forget about us…. You know the glee club."_


	9. Chapter 9 - Nationals

_**Senior Year - Week: Nationals**_

The auditorium was quiet.

Rachel sat on the edge of the stage, swinging her legs back and forth. It had been a few hours since their triumphant return from Nationals and this time, she was only picking pieces of _confetti_ from her clothes and hair. There wasn't any sticky taste of grape or cherry anymore. In the peace, she recalls all the obstacles, figuring that it was only in that moment of seeing McKinley give them their last standing ovation; that she truly felt like a _champion_. Rachel barely notices Quinn, until the blonde is plopped down beside her.

Quinn has a similar confetti problem but unlike Rachel she's not about to remove any of it just yet. With an almost smug grin, the blonde would call it their badge of honor after all these years. Rachel's fists whitened and her breathing quickened. She's no longer alarmed by the changes. There didn't seem any point, or otherwise she'd develop a heart attack before she reached thirty, because, _Quinn would never stop being enchanting_. The blonde was laid out on her back, relishing the stretch on her spine. A cheerful moan groan erupts, and _Rachel has to look away. _

"Nationals, we did it!"

The proud statement is associated with a pumped fist in the air. It was rare to see Quinn so relaxed and giddy. Rachel thought it was infectious as she found herself smiling as well. She just wished that she could have been a little more convincing with her voice.

"Yeah, I guess we did."

Slowly, they sink into a silence. The brief spark of happiness falls from her features and Rachel continues to stare into the distance. Quinn sighs, noticing the underlying sense of dread as Rachel got lost in her own thoughts again. It was disheartening and out of place for the shorter girl to be so subdued, _especially under the current context. _Sowithout much thought, Quinn makes a snap decision to intervene, because maybe, Rachel didn't have to be the courageous hero all of the time.

"So how did the chat with Carmen Tibidou go? Did a Nationals trophy change anything?"

"How did you know about that?"

Rachel turns to Quinn in shock. She's a little ashamed that the blonde wasn't been the first person she spoke to. It was just that she couldn't deal with the idea of falling short of Quinn's expectations. Rachel tries to figure out _when_ the blonde's opinion of her would _cease_ to matter. She lets out a small scoff. The notion didn't seem likely i_n any timeframe_.

"Well for one, you and Tina might need to revisit your definition of whispering, everyone heard the conversation on the bus."

The answer is simple and hazel eyes suggest that there's no need to apologise. Quinn thinks for a while, contemplating her options. In the end, she comes to the conclusion, that during their last days of high school she can afford to be a little braver. So, she reaches out to lift a red square piece of plastic from the crease of Rachel's collar. She _doesn't_ automatically retract her hand when the spine-tingling contact between skin is made and she thinks that it's ok if the singer falls into her arms; needing comfort and _maybe_ _needing her_.

"Today, we were definitely singing for Mr Schue…but…"

Rachel moves closer to hear. The sentence comes out in a rush.

"...some of us were singing for you as well…"

There's a warm pressure in the singer's chest and before Quinn can protest, Rachel has rushed forward to steal a kiss. It's on the cheek of course, but the skin burns afterwards nonetheless. Rachel finds herself amused when shyness and surprise freezes the blonde in place. It's interesting how _that response_ meant more then any trophy, bouquet of flowers or previous attempts at flattery from _anyone _in Rachel's life.

"Thank you. But, I honestly don't know."

Unwilling to flounder completely, the singer steers the conversation back on point.

"Carmen Tibidou, she's a hard person to read."

Quinn shrugs. She thinks that Rachel has very little idea about the effect she has on people; how easily so many stone walls could crumble at her feet. Quinn thinks that she could be the one to tell her.

"Come on, she can't be that bad..._You could always figure me out._"

The admission confirms an old nagging suspicion and Rachel laughs wholeheartedly. It's wonderful. She feels better now than she had in the past week or so.

Rachel loved Blaine and Kurt, but they had the _same dreams_ and thus, weren't good at pretending that NYADA wasn't the be all and end all. They were too much of a reminder of what had gone wrong. Tina, tried to help and plan but in the end, she was still a sophomore. There wasn't the same pressure to succeed. And Finn, bless the boy, could only stammer and hold her as she wept. He dutifully took over the wedding preparations, _but had a harder time finding the words. _

But unfortunately sometimes, the right words were what made the difference between heartbreak and something else entirely.

Rachel clasped her hands together. It was probably better that she didn't touch Quinn for this part. During her younger years, she'll admit that she was a bit obsessed. She tried so hard to dissect her interest in the blonde, equal parts curious and freaked out that it could be something more than just high school competition and jealousy. What she had found out was unexpected, and a mixture of everything stated before. It's a vague answer, but she figured that she just wanted to be the person in Quinn's corner, whether it was as a verbal punching bag or loud supporter. Somehow, watching a cynical Quinn walk down the hallway, Rachel had promised herself that she was going to make the blonde less lonely.

"For some reason, you came easier to me. Like you were just challenging me to _push myself_, to be _brave_ and to prove that _I wasn't temporary…"_

Quinn smiled, ruffling her short hair in a nervous gesture. Rachel had certainly proven that. The blonde's earliest assessment during her induction to glee club was that _the short Jewish girl was just going to be a permanent thorn on her side. _Funnily enough, Quinn just found that over the years, she minded less and less. Maybe she was a masochist. Rachel, on the other hand, let her problems go to the background for a second, becoming immersed in Quinn varied expressions. She's still learning about the taller girl.

She has no control over the comment that escapes.

"_...As if, you didn't really want me to go away."_

A deep breath is taken and the intensity of Rachel's gaze leaves a mark. Quinn isn't sure about a lot of things that happened during that chapter of her life. She had such a twisted mentality back then, unable to feel anything except for the rush that came with being on the top of the pyramid and not _weak_. She had thought that having people around meant not being lonely. It hadn't turned out the way she thought it would.

For her, her intentions towards Rachel were the clearest at the beginning, because she simply didn't care. She didn't even know that the girl _had_ talent, let alone deserved some measure of respect. Instead, Quinn just couldn't stand the righteousness, hypocrisy or continued offers to be a friend. However kind Rachel tried to be, _at the time_ it still seemed like more a threat. And in hindsight, it was simply _wasted years..._

So, Quinn tries to lighten the situation.

"Maybe you were just reading to much into my actions. I mean I couldn't even understand myself back then."

"Maybe._ But, I'm glad I did…"_

They share a nod and smile. The break is nice. It continues to astound them how they had gotten to the point where they could find peace and relief in speaking to each other. People, it seemed, could actually change. Who knew...

Quinn nudged Rachel's shoulder playfully.

"So New York! Are you ready?"

There were very few things that the blonde cared enough about to protest. Most events, especially ones during adolescence weren't all that important in the long run. They would be laughed off and forgotten in exchange for a future that was bigger, better and brighter. Still, if Quinn had to pick something, it would NYADA's rejection of Rachel Berry. The audition was a mess. And granted, it wasn't exactly a small mistake. However, to judge a person's worth by a single trait or performance, _it seemed like an impossible task. _

Rachel's voice could move the masses if given the chance. Quinn thinks that she would stay and help fight for it.

"I don't know if ready the right word. But, for better or worse I think that's where I'm meant to be even if I never get a part."

The thought is expelled depressively. Rachel doesn't bother with the faked confidence or overly optimistic outlook. She thinks that Quinn would see through it anyway. She felt safe.

"You will."

The singer looks up in confusion.

"Well Quinn thank you for having such faith in my abilities bu -"

An unexpected chuckle comes from the blonde. She never thought that she would ever be scrambling to repair a damages ego. Before Rachel, Quinn had shut herself off from a lot of things. It's time for a debt to be repaid. So, she was going show Rachel Berry how to believe again: in her talent, stardom and intrinsic personality_. Quinn interrupts. _

"Not faith in your abilities, Rachel. Faith in _you. _Your passion, your perseverance and your tendency towards run-on sentences..."

The corners of Rachel's eyes crinkle and she can't help smile. Quinn jumps off the edge so that she can stand in front of the singer. It's the first time she's the instigator as she reaches out for Rachel's hands. She makes sure that Rachel is _really listening_, her hazel eyes full of determination and truth.

"I know they say that everybody is different and special, but I don't think I'll ever meet somebody quite like you."

Have you ever stood in front of someone like Quinn? A girl so pretty, that it's almost painful to be around. A student so intelligent, that she could learn everything she needed about you in seconds. And a friend so close, that if you being honest you could see yourself treading the fine line between loving and _falling, _for the rest of your time spent together.

It's hard not to be _moved, and Rachel Berry wasn't a rock. _She's probably not even a sheet of paper as the blonde squeezed her hands and murmured inches from her lips.

"When I was a kid, the pastor would talk about those that broke the mold. People who you just know, that _in every lifetime_, they'll do something great."

Quinn takes a second. She leans back to capture the entire image before finishing strongly. One day, she'll get to exclaim to the world that she knew Rachel Berry _way back when_ they were just young girls in a glee club.

"That, Rachel Barbra Berry, _is you_."

The singer can't think of an appropriate response. She thinks that if the blonde could somehow just hear the rapid beating of her heart or the fluctuating changes in her breathing, that it would be enough. That, somehow Quinn would understand.

"So even if I'm still _not_ for teen weddings, go get married to Finn Hudson. Pack your bags and jump on a train together..."

The blonde leans forward. This time she's the thief as she places her lips on the singer's right cheek. She greedier than Rachel, lingering a few seconds more before drawing back.

"...Leave this town on _your terms_, to start the next part of your life in the city that never sleeps."

There's a sense of certainty and finality to Quinn's daring speech that terrifies Rachel, and she can't help but ask.

"Quinn, this isn't the last time we'll see each other right?"

Seconds pass by. Refusing to look at Rachel, the blonde seems to be torn. In the end, a sad smile appears on her face and _it doesn't fit in with the teasing tone. _

"I should hope not. I'm still a bridesmaid at that wedding of yours."

Heaviness settles in the pit of Rachel's stomach. Hazel eyes are trapped in a constant state of apology. However, before the singer can make anything of it, Quinn has turned away _already halfway out the door._

/


	10. Chapter 10 - Conclusion

**Current Day**

Rachel groaned. She rubbed the tension from her temples, as emotions and memories continued to chip away at her composure. Looking at the train ticket stub in hand, she felt herself stumble once again into the past.

There were so many times when Quinn didn't give Rachel a chance to walk away. However in the end, Rachel can't help but fixate over the _one time that the blonde did_.

The singer had been so confused. In the small cabin of the truck, Finn had asked Rachel if she was _100% sure that she wanted to marry him_. She had responded with the stammer that no one could be that sure about anything. But, Finn and Quinn _were_. It took Rachel years, but she could see it now. The two people in her life that had been _instrumental _in how she ended up here, were as different as they could be, but united in one aspect; _their faith that Rachel was someone special_...

Rachel recalls seeing Quinn standing on the platform with their friends. And despite the blur of her tears at the time, the singer can still picture the expression that the blonde wore as she was the _first person_ to turn her head around and see the singer approach. Rachel had been so single-mindedly distraught over Finn that she had ignored it but there had been something in Quinn's eyes that suggested that Rachel _could be_ her savior: that maybe in all the ways that counted Rachel _already was. _

_Proud, tall and resigned to her emotions, in a light blue and white striped coat and a matching sundress, Quinn looked just pretty enough to break Rachel's heart further._ Their earlier conversation played in mind and Rachel had suddenly understood. _Quinn knew_. Finn must have told her and this was what explained Quinn's disjointed response. The blonde knew that she was never going to be Rachel's bridesmaid because there was never going to be a wedding. Still, on that platform, Quinn had offered a shoulder rub and a breathtakingly supportive smile. It was the same one that dropped briefly watching Rachel kiss Finn goodbye.

Rachel hadn't recognised it back then; _how much it hurt the __both__ of them to __let her go__._

She hadn't grasped that there could've been more to Finn's desperate sprint with the train and Quinn's delicate wave that lasted a little longer than everyone else's.

Rachel hadn't seen past her own grief.

But time made you wiser.

And, in hindsight?

_She had been leaving Finn since they the moment they met... and watching Quinn walk away all the times after. _

/

It dawns on her as she's sitting alone in her penthouse apartment with tears streaming down her face.

Everything after high school clicks into place, _especially that night_. And it's the first sense of excitement that Rachel _actually feels_, managing to challenge the persistent pain clouding her heart.

_So, she jumps up to her feet._ She opens her _own_ doors like a normal person for once and slips out the back. She leaves her bodyguard in the dust _and somehow_, in an aimless blur, she's standing on the ground floor of an expensive office building. Her hands clutch a small business card that Santana had given her a long time ago.

Looking at the wall, there were two names cut impressively from stainless steel: Fabray & Dunn...

/

End. So Last time I uploaded, some people were wanting a companion piece or a continuation. Still in limbo about it, but yeah if you'd like tell me what your thoutput your vote in!


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